Drowning In Moonlight
by Crowley's.Darling
Summary: Gabriel never expected to be attracted to a human, especially not one whose friend with benefits was the demon Crowley. He had one job: to get her away from him, but who will she choose?
1. Start the Chaos

The first time he met her, was the first time he came in contact with the Winchester brothers. She now hunted with them... and he knew why.

Yes, he was an angel. Well... he still was. No one needed to know that little fact about him. A part of Gabriel was happy; he was now safe and away from his completely bonkers family- and their fights in which made him leave. Though, he still sometime wished for times to change; maybe they could get along-?

Yeah right!

He never knew what it was like for them to be civil with each other.

Unless it was before his brother defied their father, and was cast out for it.

Now, faking to be a trickster, you needed to play it to a T; Gabriel's pranks weren't always easy to pull off but the outcomes were more than worth the time.

Oh yeah- sometimes they were well worth the effort.

He'd often run into families while on the move; happy families with new babies or teenagers. Don't get the wrong idea; he didn't want a kid, fudging hell no! What he wanted was family…normalcy. He never had that; not a normal, calming dinner in his memory. It always consisted of fights, yelling and anger and finally his father pounding on the table to cut it all out.

That was life.

So he left, carved out his own little section of the world and hid low for a while. Something triggered in him and he wished to help people still; he was compassionate though sneaky. He wanted to get those sons of bitches that had something coming to them; he wanted to let them know that they couldn't walk through life, flitting about with no conscience.

That's what he did. Oh, he did good too. Until he heard the Winchester boys were in town; Sam and Dean.

He'd never expected the boys' to find some chick; Sasha Jennings. After watching them for a bit, he found how the relationship worked out; Sam treated her like his little sister while Dean was overprotective as a big brother.

You could see he had a thing for her. She didn't seem to share his feelings, though.

What a loser.

"Dean, get your ass out here! We need to leave!" Sasha called from the Impala. Dean had taken forever inside the motel and Gabriel watched quietly from a bench on the other side of the street, his eyes appraising the scene before him.

"Hold your Horsemen…" Gabriel muttered to himself, laughing a little.

"We need to investigate this damn insanity…" Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, pretty crazy if you ask me…" Dean mumbled when he left the motel.

Gabriel smiled, standing up after the Impala sped down the road…

"Showtime…" he said to the silent street, a smirk upon his face. With a snap of his fingers, he was off to cause more chaos, this time, on the Winchesters and their pretty little friend…

This was gonna be fun!


	2. First Encounter

_Gabriel's POV_

I let the hunters in as I pretended to be the janitor of this campus.

I knew perfectly well what they'd wanted.

The recent death of a professor brought their suspicion up; especially considering how he was thrown from the building and no one saw anyone leave the place.

Ooh creepy! Ooh by me!

Now, they were pretending to be electricians but I knew their real line of work-

Hunters.

"So, how long you been working here?" Sam inquired.

"I've been mopping this floor for six years," I opened the door,

"-here ya go boys, and…uh…lady." I winked at Sasha as she half smirked back. Sam pulled out some weird hand-held device that made a high pitched noise.

"What the heck's that for?"

"Just find a wire in the walls." Sam sighed.

"Huh. Wow, not sure why you're wiring up this office. Won't do the professor much good." That got Sasha's attention and her eyes locked with mine for a split second.

"And why's that?" Dean asked.

"He's dead." I stated; arms crossed as I leaned against the wall.

"Oh, what happened?" Dean walked away and over to an end table.

"He went out that window," I pointed, "right there-"

"Yeah!" Sam feigned shocked, "Were you workin that night?"

"I was the one who found him." I replied, gazing over at the only woman in the room, who now sat on the edge of a table. Dean grabbed a bit of candy which was in a bowl, stuffing it in his mouth and smirking.

Little bas-! That was _mine! Freaking pig!_

"Did you see it happen?" Sasha questioned from her seat upon the table. I raised an eyebrow- if those Winchesters wernt there...

Dad would have kicked my ass for thinking of her that way...

What can I say-? I was just being myself... the whole perverted angel self.

"Nope. I just saw him come up here and, uh, well-" I leaned on my mop; amazing props, I swear.

"What?"

"He wasn't alone." I wriggled my eyebrows at her. They were believing me…man, I should have been an actor and not a Trickster…

Hell I'd give Angelina Jolie a good few lessons!

"Who was he with?" Dean's mouth still was stuffed with truffles.

Erhmm... my truffles!

"He was with a young lady," I just said. "I told the cops about her but, uh, I guess they never found her…"

Sam spoke now, "You saw this girl go in, huh? But did you ever see her come out?"

I pretended to look thoughtful.

"Now that you mention it, no."

"You ever see her before, or around?" Sasha said, standing up and walking closer to me.

"Well not her…" I trailed off.

"What do you mean?" I hardly understood Dean. Had his mouth not been stuffed, maybe I would have.

But, on another thought... even without the full gob- he sounded like he was spouting crap.

"I don't mean to cast aspersions on a dead guy but uh…Mr. Morality here, he brought a lot of girls up here. Got more ass than a toilet seat."

Dean sniggered, hitting Sam in the process, picking up more truffles and somehow fitting them in his mouth. Sasha just smirked at him, rolling her eyes at his immaturity.

"Nice," she shook her head, her hair was up in one of those high ponytail things. It swayed back and forth with her movements. Great, now I was watching her like a dog after a bone... a rather juicy one at that.

"So, just another thing, this building, it only has four stories, right?"

"Yeah."

"So there wouldn't be a room 669?" Sam piped in.

"Of course not," I smirked, "why do you ask?"

"Uhhh, just curious." Dean shook it off. Sam and Sasha exchanged glances and walked out. I made a mental note to ask Sasha the reason later if my plan succeeds…

"Hey, so I'm not sure if they got your number…" I referred to the people in the office.

"Oh, yeah, right…" Sam searched his pockets for a business card. Sasha pulled one right from her bra, swiftly handing it to me.

"I'll have them give you a call when they're ready for you again." I stared at the number; probably a fake… no harm in tryin' though.

"Alright, thanks." Sasha sent me a dazzling smile and descended the stairs with the brothers.

Well, here was to hoping there were more from where that came from!

I held the card in my hand; it was still warm.


	3. Fire Sign

Sasha's POV

"The janitor was nice though," Dean closed the motel door after we entered.

"Yeah, but the case is…strange," Sam sighed.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Dean argued.

I slid off my heels, letting my hair down, "Just shut up! At least we found some things. It's just getting weirder and weirder."

"Dude, were you on my computer?"

"Uh…no."

"Oh really? 'Cause it's frozen now, on ? Just…don't touch

my stuff anymore, alright"

Their argument continued while my cell rang so I walked away to answer it, "Hello?"

"Yeah, Sasha Baker?" it was the fake last name I'd given that janitor…I didn't catch his name though; "It's uh…Charlie."

"The janitor, right?" I watched the boys listen to my conversation. "Yeah, what's up?"

"Uh, this is kinda…embarrassing but would you like to go to the bar?"

"The bar?" I glanced at Sam, "Uh…" he and Dean nodded furiously. "Yeah, sure."

"Okay, sweet. Where you stayin'?"

I gave him the address quickly and heard his reply that he'd pick me up in a few minutes, claiming he lived a few blocks away.

I hung up and pocketed my phone, "Why'd you want me to go?" I questioned the brothers.

"He may want to give you information that he didn't give us." Sam smirked.

"Or you could get him wasted and he'd tell ya anything…" Dean suggested.

"Dean!" I gasped.

"What? It's better than saying you should do him, right?" I rolled my eyes at Dean's stupidity and grabbed some dark skinny jeans and a Jack Daniel's shirt. Shutting myself in the bathroom, I changed, placed on my red high heels, fixed my makeup and sighed. Upon opening the door, I watched Sam and Dean take in my appearance. Sam nodded in approval and Dean gawked.

"Ok, I'll be back when I am. Got my cell; call me. I need to know if you figure anything out," I sauntered to the door where the knocking now came from. "Hey." I greeted Charlie who stood clad in jeans and a black shirt.

Before closing the door, I sent a glare to Dean then ensured the brother's wouldn't hear our conversation. They're both so nosey. "Well you look nice," he spoke.

"Thanks," I blushed as we walked outside and down to the bar. He ordered a beer and I a daiquiri. After a few minutes of sitting, we grew talkative. "So, how long have you lived here?"

"Well, not forever. I move around a lot," He informed.

"Oh really? We do too. All over the place actually…"

"Those two, they're…brothers, right? And you just tag along?"

"Yeah, well we sorta knew each other growing up so…"

He nodded, sipping his beer, "So did you hear about the other crap going on here?"

"No! What?" he perked my interest.

He turned to me, "Apparently there was an on-campus abduction. Aliens."

"What?" I sighed, holding my head, "aliens?" my voice dropped.

"That's the story this kid's goin' with. He may have been wasted out of his mind though, just sayin'."

I grew silent, "Are there usually strange occurrences here?"

He seemed to ponder that for a moment before replying, "No, hardly ever. It's usually a quiet town…"

Nodding, I drank my daiquiri, "Well, it appears it isn't."

"Well, now it may go back to normal. People could just be going crazy because the rest of 'em are, right? I mean you can't always believe what you read in the newspaper."

"You really think these people would fake this just because they read about it?"

He laughed loudly, "no."

"Then-"

"Eh, I just wanted a reason that seemed…believable."

I shook my head, "But you don't know what would be behind this?"

"No," he gave me a weird look. I hate weird looks… "Why would there be something doing this? You don't really believe its aliens, do you?"

"Well, no, but-" I took another drink to give myself a second to think of a reason, "well, what if there IS something doing this?"

"Like what?"

"I…I dunno…something that likes to play pranks? Like teenagers or something."

He pulled out a chocolate bar, "Not all tricks are played by teens, you know. Some adults like to get in on the fun…especially when it's someone who deserves it…" he bit the chocolate, losing the eye contact he held with me.

I pushed a button on my phone, it light up as I checked the time; 8:09 pm. Not too bad…

A text caused me to nearly jump out of my skin, at which Charlie laughed at. Dean: 'has he said anything yet?' the text read.

Rolling my eyes, I fought off the need to call him and yell at him. I told them not to bug me… 'I'll tell you when I get back, you impatient bitch' I quickly texted back.

"He seems to piss you off a lot…"

"Huh? Who?" I looked up at Charlie.

"Dean…Wadsworth, or whatever. The shorter one?"

"How'd you know I was-"

He cut me off, "Lucky guess. You rolled your eyes so I assumed-…" Charlie chortled.

"Oh…" another text from Dean: 'Jeez, what crawled up your panties? Was it Charlie? Am I interrupting something?'.

I held my head in my hands before replying, 'I am going to shoot you with the Colt.'

Not even a minute passed and another text was received, 'Ah, too bad we don't have it. Remember, Bella gave it to Lilith a while ago?'

'Well when we find it, I'm using the first bullet on your snarky ass. Now, Dean, leave me alone. I can't find anything out if u continue to text me!'

After that, I closed my phone for, hopefully, the last time and turned back to Charlie who sat staring at me with an amused expression on his face.

"You ok there?" he inquired.

"Yeah, Dean's just an idiot."

He licked his lips, inching closer to me. I felt my cheeks heating up, "Was he upset that you left tonight? Does he think we gonna do something?"

"Uh…well, I…that's just the way Dean thinks…it's-" why was he making me stutter? I look like an idiot.

"Ah." He interrupted, "Ok, I see how this is."

"How what is?"

"He's jealous!" he blurted out with another laugh.

"He flirts with anything with a vagina. So, yes, I'd imagine he's upset that, after all these years, I've never slept with him."

At that, he seemed…relieved? "Oh, ok. So, where were you born?"

"Ohio. Boring old place, if you ask me."

"I love it there, so calming."

"No, so boring." I corrected.

The conversation reached more down-to-Earthy, normal, every day talks and it was relaxing. I haven't had a nice chat with someone I barely knew in…what, three years? Somethin' like that…

Charlie was a really sweet guy and I loved that he listened, unlike most men. Sam was a good listener; Dean on the other hand, was not. He only enjoyed listening to a woman when she was moaning his name during sex. That was something I'd never planned with Dean. Don't get me wrong; he was attractive as hell! More of a sibling to me than a love interest…

We've never had sex though; even though Bobby Singer doesn't believe that. Though that man is like my father to me, he is convinced that Dean and I shack up constantly. Quite untrue.

We have, however, come close to things; when we're wasted. It's happened a few times. We'd been having a bad day every time and we'd go to the bar. After leaving Sammy there, we'd wind up pushing each other through the hotel room door and tearing each other's clothes off while trying not to break our heated kisses. He was fantastic at the stuff we did but…we'd never really had sex. But we'd gotten so close too many times to count. Too many times where I would wake up regretting every last minute of it. That may be why I push Dean out of my life so often. It's always, 'Sasha, you have a problem. Go to Sam!' one of these days that poor guy is just going to slap me for being so stupid…

Charlie smiled at me, "So you seem…uncomfortable."

"God no. I'm just not used to having time like this," I admitted.

"You mean being honest with someone?"

"No, like…long chats about my life." Of course, I couldn't tell him that we hunted demons. I hid that but the rest was all true.

"Should I feel special that you're sharing this with me then?"

After a moment's pause, I replied, "Yep."

"Good, 'cause I am," He placed his hand on top of mine. The sensation that coursed through my body sent me into shock. I couldn't move for a moment and I just stared into his eyes…

Blushing, I got closer to him; wanting to kiss him… he leaned down considering our height difference. Story of my life.

Our lips connected; a nervous kiss at first. He leaned in closer, trailing his lips a bit harder into mine. He tasted like the chocolate he'd eaten a while ago and the beer. It seems like a gross combination but that's where you'd be wrong…he drove me crazy and I pulled closer; slipping my tongue into his mouth. He moaned softly, hands on my hips.

My cell phone vibrated in my pocket; literally making me jump back which, of course, Charlie laughed at. I playfully glared at him but pulled my cell out of my pocket to see who texted me.

"I swear, if it's Dean, I'm gonna be pissed…" I told Charlie.

My eyes scanned over the name and I nearly gasped; an old friend… 'Be careful, darling.' The message read.

I read it over and over again; the words echoing in my eardrums.

"Everything ok?" Charlie's voice piped up. My eyes snapped up to him.

"Uh, yeah. I just need to get back now… the boys will want me soon. It's already 11!" I stammered.

"Oh, alright." We left a tip and exited the bar. "So, I'll see ya later? Call ya soon?"

"Yeah, that sounds nice," I scanned around frantically.

"Sweet!" he exclaimed, kissing my cheek. "Want me to walk with you?"

"No, your place is in the other direction. I'm a big girl, I can protect myself."

"You sure?"

"Promise." I smiled, waving as I waked in the direction of the motel the boys and I were staying at. He left as well, the complete opposite way.

There weren't any people on the streets. This one fact scared me terribly, as it would anyone. I shook it off, telling myself that I've survived through scarier things and that the motel was about 5 minutes from here. I'd be fine. Right?

Footfalls were heard close behind me and I glanced back multiple times just to find no one there.

Sasha, get a hold of yourself. You're being stupid. There's nothing there…

The footfalls were so close now, directly behind me but, again, there was no one there. What's happening?

Darkness blurred over my vision and I was grabbed me the arm, dragged somewhere. I screamed loudly; kicking and trying to get away. My screams were echoing; I must be in an alleyway now…

Who the hell is this! What do they want?

The darkness was still there; my eyes were open but I saw nothing but black…

I kicked once more, finally making contact with something or someone. An 'ooff' was muttered and I stopped all movements and I listened in to the echo…

My back hit a brick wall and the blackness faded…

"_Ello, darling…"_


	4. Intoxicate Me Now

"How've you been, Sash?" at his voice, I lowered my head; resting it on his chest while catching my breath. He chuckled, "That good, eh?"

"It's good to see you, Crowley," I answered honestly.

"As it is you, love," He shot back, eyes traveling over my figure. I was still pressed to the brick wall. "Well don't you look..." he had a sharp intake of breath. His lips met mine and I eagerly kissed back, now wrapping my legs around his waist. I giggled into the kiss as Crowley's arms crossed around my waist; pressing me tighter to him. He deeply groaned into my mouth, enjoying himself. I broke away, gasping.

"I should probably go back…" I mumbled, kissing his neck.

"Back to find a bedroom?" he asked, "great idea," His hand traveled down to my ass which he squeezed hard.

I slapped his hand away after pulling back from his neck, earning an annoyed groan on Crowley's part and a hushed 'come on' escaping his parted lips. "No, back to the brothers." I paused, "you should come too."

"And finally meet the Hardy Boys? No, thanks." He bit, hard, into my neck.

"Oh, come on. Why not?" I fake pouted.

"It doesn't seem that the brother's would…shall we say, enjoy my company." my neck ached from the bite.

"And why's that?"

He smirked, pulling me to him again and biting my neck once more, "Oh, I have my reasons," I moaned loudly as he trailed kisses on my soft spot, "besides; we _need_ to find a bed…"

I shook my head, remembering Charlie and instantly feeling regret, "Crowley, I need to get back. We're working a job and need to figure this out."

"What? This little alien business? It's full of crap!" he exclaimed, accent making me smile.

"Oh really?"

"You don't think so?" he put me down considering our conversation just got more professional.

"Of course I think so… it's just… I dunno, strange. Well, too strange."

Sighing, he shook his head, "You know, I used to protect you constantly. Still do, as a matter of fact, and this…" he motioned around him, "this is just…a bad joke."

"Then who's behind it?"

He gave me that smirk. That stupid all-knowing smirk that only he seemed to possess. "You'll figure it out," At that time, he smacked my ass and vanished right before my eyes…

Great. Just freggin' great…

Walking into the motel room with Sam and Dean prodding on how Charlie and my "date" went is not very entertaining. Well, possible for others it was. For me? Not a snowball's chance in hell…

"So, did ya kiss him?"

"Did he tell you anything?"

"Was he talking dirty? And I don't mean janitor 'oh-that-floor-was-disgusting' dirty. I mean 'oh-let-me-clean-the-floor-with-your-body' dirty."

I'm guessing you can tell who the levelheaded Winchester was. Yeah…things never change…

"Dean, give it up ok? I don't think anyone really use those lines from your favorite pornos," I breathed. "And Sammy, yes."

I then went into the information I'd been given; not much but still more than we had. The brothers sat listening intently.

Dean gave me a weird look after all the explanation. "Uh, Sash?"

"What now, Dean?"

He cleared his throat, "If you didn't have any action with...Charlie...why is there a bite on your neck?"

"Uh..." and I stood and gazed in a mirror, silently cursing Crowley.

Dean smirked again and I sent him that look to drop it, which he did, lucky enough for him.

"So what's our next move?" Dean inquired.

"Talk to the kids on campus. See what they have to say about it."

"Meaning…?"

"The alien, Dean!"

That was exactly what we did in the morning, after I'd put enough cover up on my bite. Damn it, Crowley...

We constantly got people saying how douchey this kid was. How he treated people like dirt and didn't care. Plenty of people were happy that this kid was now so closed up and scared of the alien thing. We then talked to the student.

After a lengthy chat with this kid, we found him to be the complete opposite. He was jumpy, quiet, scared. Wanna know why? The alien probed him, made him slow dance, probed again and again and again.

By the time we left that place, Dean was laughing his ass off. He found it hilarious that kid got what was coming to him. When we ended up at the motel room again, Sam seemed to be looking for something.

"Dean, what'd you do with my laptop?"

"What? Nothing."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure I lost it."

"Well maybe ya did there, Sparky." Dean remarked.

"How would you like it if I screwed with the Impala?"

"It'd be the last thing you ever did," at Dean's comment, I left the room.

Ignoring their bickering once again, I checked my phone; no texts from Crowley. And how I needed to know what we were dealing with. He knew damn well…just didn't want to tell me… and I know the reason he'd say; 'DEMON!' right? Like that's an excuse…

Shit, it actually kinda is…

I bit my lip as I nearly dialed Charlie's number, we weren't technically _dating_ but still, I shouldn't have kissed Crowley…_again._

A pain shot through my head, a headache coming on. Great…

The brothers finally stopped arguing and began talking about the current issue.

"Maybe we should get some help. I'll call Bobby; maybe he's run into something like this before," I heard Sam suggest as I re-entered the room.

"Oh, I'm sure he has. Just your typical haunted campus, alien abduction, alligator-in-the-sewer gig. Yeah, simple." Dean sighed.

This is incredibly strange…

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for the support guys. I didn't know if anyone would like to read this story so it took me a while to post it. I have 7 chapters typed up and I'm working on writing chapter 8 soon. I'll post at a decent pace. Thanks again everyone. By the way, the way Sasha met Crowley will be incorporated soon. **

**~Nikki~  
**


	5. Meetings

Bobby showed up the next morning. The boys explained everything to him and this whole situation was giving me a major headache. Now mind you that Sam and Dean's squabbling didn't help at all either.

"I'm going out," I informed them after there was a break in their arguing. Slamming the door, I nearly sprinted away so they couldn't stop me.

Finally away from all of this, I began walking to the park I'd seen the other day. My thoughts rang on about last night. It had been the first night in ages that I felt like a normal woman. I went on a date, god damn it! I really do care about Charlie already. I know, I know, it's bad to rush into things but I can't help it. He's just one of those people you become attached to instantly.

Breathing in the cool air, I felt my shoulders lose their normal tense state. My life is too stressful, that's obvious, and a few minutes away were much appreciated.

A black suited man suddenly caught my attention and I blissfully walked over to him, a glare as my gaze.

I cleared my throat to get his attention. He looked around then gazed down at me.

"Ah, didn't see you. So short in stature," he grinned at me. I raised an eyebrow at him. "Still mad, are we?"

"Why won't you tell me what's going on here Crowley?" I whispered, pulling on his jacket sleeve and dragging him on the walk with me.

"You'll figure it out in due time, deary." He chuckled, "anxious are we?" he wriggled his eyebrows, no doubt thinking something dirty…

"Shut it," I snapped.

"Aw, come on. Let me take you somewhere to relieve that sexual tension," I wasn't finding it funny and another angry look was sent in his direction. "Now don't be upset. It's not…in my place to tell you what's happening."

"And why not?"

"Well, for one, your little friend Bobby may figure it out sooner than you think."

"But why should I wait for Bobby if I could just get it from you?"

He paused, that smile on his face again, "You want to 'get it' from me, do ya now?"

I sighed, holding my head, "Maybe it was a bad idea for a walk today. I thought the brothers were good at giving me headaches…"

He sighed loudly, gazing around at the people who passed by, "well now, didn't think you'd be running into me, did you?"

"No but still," I sat down on a bench by the playground.

"So is this it then?" I gazed up at him with a questioning expression, "you get your kicks out of watching children?"

"No!" I defended, arms crossed over my chest, "you're a dolt, you know that?"

"Very much so, thank you."

Silence formed between us and he sat down on the bench next to me, putting his arm up like only men do. The weather was nice surprisingly; not too hot nor cool. Children's laughter filled my ears as they played on the swings.

Crowley was humming lightly to himself, the deep sound from the depths of his throat calmed me and I found myself closing my eyes.

Someone cleared their throat, and it wasn't Crowley. His humming had stopped and I already missed the sound. My eyes bolted open and I instinctively reached for the knife Crowley always kept in the pocket of his suit jacket. I breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Charlie, allowing my hand to let go of the knife's handle, pulling my hand from Crowley's pocket. Charlie smiled widely at me.

"Did I…interrupt something?" he questioned, eyes traveling from Crowley to me, then back again.

"Charlie! Uh… no, no you didn't!" I shot up, facing Crowley. His eyes met mine but fell back to the pavement, his lips pursed and breath even.

"I'll…uh…see ya later, Sash." Crowley mumbled under his breath as he stood, "nice seeing you…Charlie, was it?" his eyes met Charlie's in a glare then he proceeded back the way we came.

Sorrow struck through me. I shouldn't have acted like that but I didn't want Charlie to think I just ran off with Crowley; even though he didn't know him.

"What brings you over here?" Charlie questioned.

"Ah, the boys are just arguing nonstop lately," He _smirked_. Wait, why would he smirk at that?

"Oh really?" he shuffled from foot to foot, "I had a wonderful time last night."

A smile hit my lips that I couldn't help but shake off, "so did I. So-" I was cut off by my phone again. I swear, every time I'm with him, my phone is going off.

It was Sam, "Hey, Sasha. Get back here quick. We figured it out," And he hung up. I didn't have to say a word.

I pocketed my phone and glanced at Charlie, "I'm so sorry to do this to you but the boys are being ignorant again. I'll have to talk to you later…" he pulled me to him, linking his lips with mine in a passionate kiss. He tasted really sweet. It was addicting and I couldn't get enough.

"Can't you stay for a bit longer?" he play-pouted.

"Sorry, they're in the middle of some huge fight," I hated lying to him. I really did…

He sighed, "Okay. Well I better see you later."

"It's a promise," I smiled.

"Bye."

I didn't reply, just walked away after waving. As soon as I was out of eye-shot, I bolted; running as fast as my legs could take me back to the brothers.

Halfway down the street I saw Crowley watching me. His gaze was intense and I suddenly felt self-conscious in my low-cut shirt. A smirk played on his face, like he knew something I didn't.

I ducked in the motel, trying to shake off that look.

* * *

_Crowley's POV_

The way her body moved as she ran drove me nuts. Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I attempted to hide the growing bulge in my pants. I'll be the first bloke to admit I love a release, especially with someone as attractive as Sasha. She doesn't know what she's worth yet and the knowledge that I could have her drives me crazy.

Being her secret best friend is always exciting in itself. There have been multiple times we'd been talking in a hotel and I had to pop out of there so fast because the damn brothers walked in. But to actually physically shag her, I can't fathom that; all these years I've wondered what it would be like. She's more of a tease than she realizes.

I hope she realized I noticed her love bite still despite the makeup, it was obvious; I'd love to bite over the rest of her body…

The things this bitch did to me without realizing…I should teach her a lesson. In fact, I think I will.

Smiling to myself, I turned the corner, watching Charlie-whoever stuffing another candy bar in his gob. Oh once she finds out the truth about him...-I'm waiting to watch that go down. My eyes darkened before I turned the corner and disappeared.

Something must be done.

Sasha will be mine, I just know it. And if not, it's the end of him.


	6. Almost Lover

_Sasha's POV  
_

I had no more time to think of my situation now, I was about to be in the room and if I had even a glint in my eyes, the brothers would catch on instantly; one of the disadvantages of being with these boys 24/7.

"So what did you figure out?" I asked Sam after I entered. Bobby stood and gave me a hug, commenting on how short I still was. Oh, my father-figure…

"Well, we figured out that it's been playing us this whole time. I mean, starting fights with us, stealing our stuff so we blame each other, faking an alien abduction…" Dean trailed off.

"What? How could it do that!"

"It's called a Trickster. They can create things as real as you and me. They're Demi-Gods."

I nodded, "So all these people have been tricked? But why not me?"

"They tend to go after people who are…" Bobby fought for the right words.

"-Dicks." Dean spoke.

I sighed, "So they do this to prove a point. Like, cut people down? And how do we know who it is?"

"They take the form of humans; usually someone on the inside of everything."

"And who have we known who's been in the middle of it all?"

I spoke up, needing to say it but fighting my voice from shaking, "Charlie…"

We now entered the campus again, telling Charlie that we'd start the re-wiring. Sam pretended like he had to get something out of the 'truck' but he was really snooping around where Charlie keeps his stuff.

Throughout the time walking to the room with Dean and Charlie, I was angry. First, because he was keeping this from me, but then I decided that I kept a secret from him as well, so we were even. Then, I grew angry at a comment he made: "Sorry I'm draggin a little ass, it was a busy night last night. Lotsa sex, if you catch my drift," Dean retorted with a "hard not to," and the conversation was left behind.

But not for me. After all of this, I thought someone actually cared about me. He'd taken me on dates and I was hoping that I'd found something. Sure, I knew it wouldn't work but, hell, it was worth a shot.

On the way out, Charlie had given me the eye again but I just brushed it off and walked out with Sam and Dean. They began a fight; we'd found out that Charlie read Weekly World News.

"Just because he reads The Weekly World News doesn't mean it's our guy, you read it too." Sam spoke to Dean.

"I'm tellin' ya, man, it's him."

"Look, I just think we need some more proof, that's all."

Dean stopped, turning to him, "Bobby mentioned these suckers have a metabolism like an insect, a real sweet tooth."

"Well, I didn't find any candy bars."

"Probably because you missed something."

"I don't miss things," Sam snapped and I backed up, holding my head.

"Oh, 'cause you're Mr. Perfect."

"What?"

"Are you still pissed at what the Trickster did!"

Dean snapped, "You've been a tight-ass LONG before that," I noticed Charlie look out the window at us, no doubt listening in to the fight.

Sam sighed, "Look, just stay here, keep an eye on the janitor. I'll go to his place and see if I can find more evidence before you go in staking the man. Okay?" he paused, waiting for Dean's reply, "okay?" he repeated.

"Okay! Okay." Dean ran a hand through his hair.

We sat there for a while, seeing if Charlie was going to come out or whatever. After more tiresome minutes of annoying talk about Charlie with Dean, I stood up.

"Oh, screw this," I spoke, walking into the campus. Dean followed and we searched around for anyone. There was no one there but we heard music playing somewhere and we followed the noise.

We opened the doors to the performing arts center and entered. Two women; one blonde and one brunette, climbed closer to us from on the bed which sat on the stage. They were clad in lingerie.

"They're a peace-offering," Charlie spoke, sitting in one of the seats before the stage.

"Well, man, I dig your style. I mean the slow-dancing alien?" Dean laughed.

"One of my personal favorites." Charlie laughed.

I was silent, couldn't help but glare at the girls on the bed. Were they the ones he slept with last night? They're not real, I know that.

"But they're not real." Dean spoke my thoughts.

"Oh, but baby, it'll feel real." One of them spoke.

"Go ahead, as long as you want. Just long enough for me to high-tail it to the next town."

"I can't. I can't let you keep hurting people." Dean sighed.

"Ah, that's too bad. I liked you three!" he laughed, "but, Sam was right…you shouldn't have come alone."

Just as we planned, Sam and Bobby both entered; Sam through the door closest to me and Bobby opposite him. Sam nodded at me, glad I was okay. Well, on the outside, I'm sure I looked fine…

Dean slowly pulled out the stake, "You're right."

"That fight you two had outside, that was a trick?" he asked, putting two-and-two together. Dean shrugged with a smirk, "That's pretty good. But…mine are better." Just as he spoke, a chainsaw man appeared next to Sam and another thing attacked Bobby. To be honest, I couldn't remember; I was being attacked myself; by the blonde hooker while Dean was attacked by the brunette.

My fists closed and I did a full swing towards her pretty-little jaw. She cried out and I could feel Charlie's eyes on me. That just urged me on more.

The whore swung back, punching my nose until I tripper her, running over to the brunette one who was hovering over Dean, and tackling her to the floor. She fell with a shrill call and I heard Charlie clapping with laughter. I punched the girl again and was lifted up by the blonde, thrown to the stage floor. They double-teamed Dean, tossing him off the stage and into the first row of seats.

"Wow, nice toss, ladies." Charlie clapped again. I stood, jumping down by Dean to help him up.

The chainsaw man nearly hit me while Sam dodged and I squeaked nervously.

"Sash, careful!" Sam called.

Dean was being attacked by the girls again and I eyed the stake. I knew what I had to do…acting upon it would be my only problem.

Picking it up, I lunged at Charlie, tears filling my eyes. I really cared about him; it was possible I could have loved him.

"Sasha…" he whispered, "You don't have to do this."

"No, I really think I do…"

"You don't. They're occupied; they'll deal with it while I sneak out. Right?"

"No," I snapped, tears falling, "I wouldn't be able to live with myself after this."

"But you'll be able to live with yourself if you kill me?" he shook his head, "I should have expected nothing less…from a hunter."

Anger pulsed through me, "You have no idea how much this hurts. This life! I hate it. But it has to be done, so don't go griping to me!"

He paused, sighing, "I'm not pure evil. I'm getting back at those assholes that like to screw with people."

"By killing them? You're going just as low as them, Charlie. You know that, right?" he stayed silent, "which is why I have to do this…" I gripped the stake tighter so my knuckles turned white. "I'm sorry." And I impaled him.

The monsters disappear and blood pours from Charlie's chest. I wipe away the stray tears so that when Sam comes over, wrapping his arm around me, he doesn't see…

_Goodbye, my almost lover…_


	7. Heal This Hurt

That night, we went back to the motel room, got our stuff, and took off. Bobby was to follow us to the next motel then leave for another hunt.

"I'll follow you," Bobby nodded, closing the driver's side door of his old truck. I climbed in the Impala's backseat and watched the brother's plop down in their normal areas.

I was silent the few hour drive; I hadn't known what to do. Things weren't exactly as I'd hoped. I had felt that maybe, just maybe, Charlie would be the one to understand me, to finally see me for who and what I am: a hunter. It's not a job; it's a lifestyle and with it comes loneliness.

I understand that I had the brothers with me, but I wished for someone besides them to understand.

After a few hours of driving, Dean was getting cranky so we found the nearest motel, deciding that it was far enough away from Charlie's dead body, and rented a room.

Bobby slammed his door and grabbed my duffle from me. It held a change of clothes and a few hunting supplies. I nodded in thanks, unable to speak. As we entered the room, Bobby spoke of the thing he was hunting; to be honest I didn't listen.

I set my stuff down on the bed after taking it from Bobby.

Dean sighed, "I need a drink. Who's in?"

Sam walked over to me, he seemed to be the one who slightly understood my distressed mood, "You want to go to the bar with us?"

I shook my head, "no, thanks Sammy."

He embraced me tightly, kissing the top of my head and exiting with Dean who'd given me a single wave before the door slammed closed.

"Hey kid," Bobby sat beside me, "what's eatin' ya?" he paused, "is it that trickster?" I looked away from my father figure, "Kid," he breathed through his nose, "the boys told me you two went on a date. You really liked him, didn't you?"

"Bobby…" I breathed, really not wishing to speak of this.

"No, answer the question."

My gaze met his, "Alright fine. Yes, I did. I mean…" my breathing grew shaky, "Charlie was the sweetest guy-"

Bobby cut me off, mumbling, "Literally with all the candy that thing put down…"

"No, I really thought we could have something, well it wouldn't work but…"

He shifted, "You're always on the move, Sash. There's really no way you could be with anyone besides Sam or Dean. Think about it; your whole life you're hunting-"

"-Exactly! My whole life! What else has this been? Dad gave me a .45 my eighth birthday and took me out to the range a few days later. That's not a way to raise a kid."

"He was tryin' to protect you!" Bobby spoke loudly in defense of his deceased friend, "how else was he supposed to raise you? That man loved you more than anything and what he did he only thought was right. Don't want your daughter to die-"

"-you give her a rifle and tell her how to unload." I retorted.

Bobby grabbed my hand, "there was nothing but love in that man's heart. He was the most respectable hunter I'd ever come across. You didn't know your mom well enough, but she was a lucky woman." Only Bobby knew, my mom died when I was three and no one knows why.

"Thank you, I appreciate that, but it doesn't help that I grew up different from everyone. The first date I go on in years and it ends in bloodshed."

Bobby gazed down, "I know you're not religious, but…everything happens for a reason." Closing my eyes, I envisioned the pain of waking up every morning to no mother and an absent father who'd left some chicken-scratched note on the counter, claiming he'd be back from a hunt at a reasonable hour. Raising yourself causes strong independence, and we wondered why I turned out so royally screwed in the head.

"I know." I stated.

Standing, he adjusted his hat, "Call me if you need something. Gotta go hunt now."

"Be careful." I whispered, earning a stiff nod from him.

He began walking out, "And I mean it," I again looked at him, "call. About anything." With that, he left me alone to face the silence.

I lie face down on the bed, tears filling my eyes and finally cascading down my cheeks. I hadn't cried since my dad died. He'd always told me something that I tried my damnedest to forget but it rang in my memory: "straighten up, little soldier. Stiffen up that upper lip. What're you cryin' 'bout? You got me." The thought only made me cry harder.

A hand gently rest on my shoulder and I nearly jumped out of my skin, gazing up towards whoever it was. He gave me a weak smile and sighed, "You know, tears don't look so well on you, darling. I much prefer a smile."

Biting my quivering lip, I closed my eyes as more tears rolled down. His hand wiped away a few tears but I stopped him, nearly lunging at him and wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face in his shoulder. "Oh, Crowley…" I whispered sadly.

"It's…uh…quite…alright." His voice was nervous. He sat down on the bed with me on his lap. I could tell he hated touchy situations by his facial expressions.

"Do you know what happened?" I sniffed.

"That I do."

"How?"

And he replied with the answer I knew he would, "demon." It was silent for a moment as I closed my eyes, listening to his breathing.

I spoke up, "You knew he was behind it, didn't you?"

He sighed, "I did."

At that, I pushed him away, climbing off him and kneeling in front of him on the bed, "And you didn't figure it would be fit to tell me?" I screamed.

"I didn't."

"But-"

"-you needed to figure it out yourself. I can't always warn you. I knew he was no harm to you but, well, you know."

I nodded, "You didn't want to start the emotions so soon." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes. You humans and your emotions."

"Demons don't have emotions?"

"You'd be surprised." He snapped and I noticed another emotion below. "What was so damn special about the bloke anyway?"

My eyes narrowed, "What?"

"What? He was just some tricky ass who can't conjure up anything quite as powerful as I can."

"Don't be cocky." I mutter, raising an eyebrow at him.

He now stood, glaring at me, "I never-"

"-save it." I retorted.

It grew silent, "so just because I don't think a phony trickster is worth your bloody time, I get snapped at? You women and your anger issues…"

"Hey! I resent that remark, mister!" I couldn't help the smirk that clawed at my features.

Another sigh and he sat back, "If it makes you feel any better, I've been thinking about this a lot."

"What? Now you're thinking about me? Creep…" I muttered.

A playful glare was sent and he continued, "Besides that, how can you truly trust a trickster?" My expression softened as I thought.

"You…can't." I groaned.

"So I'll ask again: what was so special about him anyway?"

I silence then began, "he cared. He listened. He wasn't some brutal hunter like I'm used to. There was just something…angelic about him." Crowley's mouth opened then closed again as I stared in curiosity.

"What's so great about a caring guy?" he chuckled then looked serious.

Pondering, I replied, "Sometimes it's just nice to vent to someone like that. But sometimes I want a man who's…rough around the edges, but still cares." Another few minutes passed by before I asked, "what are you think about out?" he snapped out of his thoughtful gaze.

"Um, nothing." He shook his head, "Now, you need to stop dwelling."

"Easier said than done, Crowley."

"Possibly, but if he's not coming back, why should it matter? He was something you hunted, you killed him; your job, your life. It was necessary."

He knew damn well it was my life too. Crowley knew me better than I'd remembered sometimes…

"True." I sighed, watching him lean back against the bed's headboard. His arms looked so inviting but I wouldn't dare.

He eyed my shirt and I had to wonder if it was my tits he was staring at or something completely different. "You've blood on you."

"What?" I gazed down to see I did have blood splatter on my shirt. _Charlie's blood…_ shaking the thought off, I pulled my shirt over my head without remembering Crowley was, indeed, in my room still.

"Well then…" I heard him mumble uneasily.

"Oh, chill. It's not like you've never seen a shirtless woman before." Rolling my eyes I made my way to the bag which ended up in the middle of the floor. I crouched down and unzipped it, reaching for my shirt.

"Right, but never one quite like you before." My heart stopped and I looked up. His skin paled and eyes grew wide as his mouth dropped open and he seemingly lost breath. As he stood his eyes seemed to darken and he made his way to me. My heart rate increased rapidly before he stopped directly in front of me, holding a hand out. I began to rise slowly, holding the new shirt in my hand, my skin feeling clammy. His eyes traced my shirtless region, stopping to stare at the black bra barely concealing my chest. As soon as his hand reached height, he tightly wrapped his fingers around my arm and pulled me to my feet. Eyes glazed over, he forcefully pushed me to the wall. Holding me there, his fingers traveled down my curves, warm hands hitting even warmer skin.

"Crowley…" I could barely speak; the now-soft tone of my voice covered by my loud heartbeats: all I could hear. _All I could hear…_

His breath was steady as he placed his lips on top of mine.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews everyone; they make me smile! I had a bad day and coming home to lovely reviews made me smile. So, as a treat, here's the update. I had a lot of editing to do on this one, but I love it so much more. Tell me what you think please? Review! Also, on my profile page there's a poll up for this story; asking my readers what they'd like from this story! Please go vote :)**

**Thanks everyone! Gigantor-sized hugs to all **

**P.S. Anyone get the Eminem reference in this chapter? xD  
**


	8. Scream From The Pleasure

Sasha's kisses were always taunting so the demon thought, they'd always leave him wanting more. Now it was his turn…

He left her after the first kiss, turning around and rubbing his lips to hide a smirk. He could hear her breathing along with her heartbeat, if really listening: all part of being a demon. She placed a hand on the demon's shoulder and he viewed her unreadable expression. She bit her lip. Crowley _hated _when she bit her lip. It was so taunting. She then pushed him back, lips on his. It was a familiar taste that Crowley came back to time and time again. Growling from the depths of his throat he took her arm, zapping to his home.

Sasha was frightened, not knowing where she was or what happened. Crowley felt he should have warned her though. Too late. A second passed for her to realize where she must be. Her eyes traveled around the rooms to what Crowley called his home: multi-bedroom mansion-type, large fireplace in the living room, many other features.

The suited man managed a content tone, "Make yourself comfortable."

She looked around a bit, staring at the trinkets Crowley acquired over the centuries while he poured himself some alcohol. He couldn't help but jump when he felt her latch onto him. She wrapped her arms around the demon then proceeded to run her small hand up his arm, snatching the newly-poured glass. Sasha smelled it, raising her eyebrows with closed eyes.

"What is this?" she mumbled, drinking it.

He smirked, "Craig. Aged 30 years." He took the large glass from her then drank and placed it down. "Now, where to start…" she smirked confidently, drawing near and grazing her hips to his. He felt he hadn't wanted something so badly in his life. Crowley needed to feel her warmth.

His rough hands reached down to pick her up and hold her to his body, cupping her ass as she wrapped her legs around his frame. Their lips met in a heated kiss which was broken when he dropped her on his bed, her breasts damn-near bouncing out of her bra as the sound of her breathing created a horny feeling in Crowley.

"Crowley," she gasped, "Now!" and he knew what she wanted while she tore the jacket off him.

How could he not oblige?

So he proceeded to undress then tear the remainder of her clothes off. Crowley's vision focused over her bare body, a sight he'd wished to see for some time now. She bit her lower lip again as he trailed kisses down her neck; lower…lower until he hit the piercing in her bellybutton.

"Looks painful," the demon muttered, licking the skin below it.

She moaned, digging her nails into the sheets, "it was." She paused, "but I like the pain." Her voice was husky, the comment causing Crowley to stop all movement. His eyes closed and muscles twitched at the thought and before he could control himself, he lunged upward to pin her wrists to the bed.

Her breathing caught and she laughed. Bloody _laughed_. Pulling out of Crowley's grasp with her right hand quickly, Sasha speedily lowered her fingertips to touch Crowley's length. He'd have stopped her, had it not felt so good. "Bollocks." He cursed.

She giggled, "Aw you like that?" she spoke to him as if I were a dog, angering Crowley.

Groaning, he gripped her hand back to press it back down. If anyone were in control of this situation, it was sure as hell going to be the King of the Crossroads.

Sasha had teased him for years, now it was his turn…

Crowley's tongue swirled over her nipples, causing them to harden. Sasha squirmed a bit, trying to get out of the grasp she was locked in. Too bad… Nipping lightly, she released a light squeak. Not good enough for Crowley. Oh, no. Taking both of her wrists in his left hand he lowered his right, trailing it down her soft skin. He hitched it between them, feeling her opening with a finger. She gasped then moaned.

"Now darling," Crowley pushed that finger inside her, "you need to know who's in control here." She whimpered as he circled her clitoris.

The woman's breathing grew unsteady, "F-fine, just come on." She bucked her hips.

Crowley chuckled, pulling up and opening his mouth against hers. Their tongues met and the taste sent him over the wall he'd built up. At first, he hadn't need rush into it but with the way her bare breasts felt against his skin, he couldn't wait longer.

The demon could feel her belly ring dig into his skin as his hips lowered to hers. That simple action reminded him of the pain she'd spoken of. Smirking into her skin, the demon bit roughly to draw blood. The brunette moaned; a noise which echoed off the walls and drove Crowley into a deeper pit of horniness.

He couldn't take it anymore, he knew that. Her heart was racing, her chest heaved, and the moan threw him back into the mood to ravage her.

The dark haired demon tightened his grip on her wrists, positioning himself at her entrance. He took no time in preparing, feeling with his tip that her pussy was wet enough for him. The thought that he had caused someone such pleasure already, was unbelievable. As he pushed into her, Sasha moaned loudly, body tensing up instantly.

Crowley could feel her tightness. She wasn't a virgin, but she wasn't a cheap whore either. He took a minute to breathe, readying himself so as not to lose control already. She was so bloody tight his mind wouldn't cease that thought. Sasha took that time to adjust herself in a position more comfortable for her. When she stopped moving, the demon opened his eyes and began to thrust himself inside of her.

Sasha moaned out loud, thrusting back toward his movements. Her eyes closed, mouth partly open as shaky breaths escaped. He could feel her tightening her vaginal muscles, causing him more pleasure with every thrust. Though most enjoyable, Crowley applied pressure at her wrists, grunting in warning. If she continued with that charade, there wouldn't be a long outcome. She was pushing him closer every thrust. She smirked as he groaned, "I'm warning you." And he bit her lip, drawing blood and tasting the iron. "Don't test me." He finished.

Licking the blood, she watched him continue his thrusting. She tried pulling her wrists away still, releasing a few more moans as he pressed harder.

She arched her back as he pushed deeper into her core. "Crowley," she breathed unsteadily, distracting the demon for a moment's time. It'd been so long since someone had moaned his name. She felt the looseness of his grip on her and pulled her wrists back, arms now winding around his neck. Agitatedly Crowley plunged into the human, making her scream his name.

"Bugger." Crowley mumbled at the way her calls made him feel. Her fingers played with his hair then slammed back to the bed as Crowley moaned at her tightness.

"Oh fuck…" she moaned as he hit her spot. "Oh God, Crowley, more."

Now he understood why she bit her lip: to contain desire. The fire was consuming him, he couldn't push back anymore. He'd maintained a steady pace but he couldn't stop himself now…

Crowley then pulled out of her, standing beside the bed. After a slight moment of lost balance, for his head was still spinning from the load he'd wished to release, he walked nakedly over to the table and placed a hand on the chair. He tried to catch his breath.

"Fuck." He muttered, dick still hard.

He could hear Sasha ruffling the sheets as she must have turned over, "Crowley," her voice was shaky, weak and needy covered in a horny tone. "sweetie, what's wrong?"

The way she called him 'sweetie' made him want to vomit. The way he could still smell her skin, still feel her caresses…every detail about her changed him drastically. For once, he was met with the knowledge that he wanted to hurt her. He wanted to hit her, yell, curse, and make her bleed. But he wouldn't. He couldn't.

This was why he usually avoided a situation such as this. If he really needed a shag, he'd find some unsuspecting demon and destroy her after the deed was done.

Crowley's fingers tapped on the chair, his hands shaking. "Oh, bollocks," he grumbled.

Sasha moved again, he could hear it. Her heart rate was steadying, "Come on, we weren't really done. You haven't seen all that I've got." Now his fingers tightened around the chair's top, grinding his teeth. "Crowley." She half moaned half begged.

He turned on his heels, leaning down to grab the knife out of his suit pocket and advancing toward her. Sasha's eyes showed fear which turned Crowley on more. He climbed over her, watching her squirm. She didn't want to be killed. Good thing Crowley didn't intend that.

Instantly his hand rest on her hip, bruising her. She gasped loudly, mouth soon covered with his own. She moaned against his lips, running her fingers down his back. Crowley was beginning to feel comfortable again so to distract himself he shoved his member back inside her.

Sasha could tell this time it would be different. Just the way Crowley looked at her sent shivers down her body. She eyed the knife in his hand, curious as to why he'd had it.

Crowley smirked at her curiosity, distracting himself momentarily from her tightness. He slowed his pace and watched her cover her mouth, "oh, no, don't control those screams…" he groaned, pulling back her hands. Slowly he deepened his thrusts and closed his eyes in ecstasy when she screamed his name.

"Harder." She moaned.

His breathing caught, "so you do like it rough?" he then placed the knife to her throat. Sasha couldn't control the rush she felt. She moved her head back, letting the blade cut her, blood pooling gradually down her neck. Crowley then traced the cold knife down her torso, not pressing hard enough to cut her, but enough to tease her.

Sasha had enough teasing and she felt electricity jolt through her. Before Crowley knew what was happening, he was on his back. Sasha had rolled them over and she was now on top.

The demon growled about to push his way back on top, something he was used to in life, never in bed. Something stopped him: the way her hips moved. His head hit the pillow so quickly after she began her movements. She controlled her body like she was a belly dancer, her hips grinding back and forth, pushing Crowley deeper and deeper inside of her.

He couldn't restrain the boisterous screaming of her name as she leaned up, running a hand through her long hair. Crowley ogled at the way her breasts bounced with every thrust. He was damn near an orgasm and the way she began biting on and moaning into his ear drove him closer to release than he'd wished. The blade cut into the skin on her hips, then the flesh on her thigh. He pressed his hands into her hips then, tossing the blade to the side. He noticed the way her eyes closed as he dug his fingers into her.

It was then that Crowley sat up, overpowering her. He held her on his lap, meeting thrust-for-thrust and burying deep inside her womanhood. He bit into her shoulder, drawing blood. Her fingers tangled in his hair while he pulled hers. The need increased, nearing an orgasm.

Crowley started going deeper, smacking her ass while squeezing her right breast. Their lips locked again; a long needy tongue-kiss. Crowley turned them over, taking his rightful position on top.

Her legs wrapped themselves around his torso. She clung to him, not subduing the moans that left her. Sasha felt her orgasm near, clinging to it as long as possible until she came, walls tightening around Crowley who moaned in pleasure as he felt her cumming. Crowley slowed his pace, finally reaching his much-needed release. They rode out their orgasms together, kissing and sweating and clinging to one another.

Crowley gave one final thrust and Sasha dug her nails into his back, claiming him as her own.

* * *

He slipped out of her, collapsing beside her. The feelings of their climax still in effect. His finger pressed over her wounds, taking the blood and licking it off, too lazy to properly clean her with a towel.

She sighed, shivering soon after the heat of their sex wore off. Crowley turned over with a groan. His arm snaked around her as he kissed her forehead.

"Mmm, Crowley that was…" Sasha sighed again.

"-fantastic." He finished.

Sasha couldn't help but be surprised when the demon showed he wished to hold her. Things were too good to be true. She cuddled into his embrace, warming up instantly and allowing Crowley to pull the covers over them.

The Winchester's crossed her mind; they were probably worried about her, but she was too exhausted from Crowley ravaging her body to care.

She leaned up and kissed him once more, Crowley being caught off guard. He chuckled and ran his hand through her hair.

"Sleep well, darling." His voice was even deeper from exhaustion.

His voice, the last thing she heard before falling into a much-needed sleep: she could get used to that.

* * *

**This update took me all day to think up. It's been a long time since I updated and I am terribly sorry for this. I just got done with band season so my Fridays should be free! Reviews are loved so much. I worked hard on this for you guys; I wanted it to be perfect :D**


	9. World On Fire

_Sasha_

Early morning sun rays swept through the cracked blinds and stirred me awake. I was stark naked in this large bed, a single white sheet shielding me for the morning air that blew through the open window. Breathing lightly, I sat up, sheet dropping to my waistline. My disheveled hair hung past my shoulders and my hand came up to swipe my bangs from my eyes. Gazing about to find this mansion Crowley-less did not surprise me.

I shifted, pressing heels to floor and padding to what I assumed was the bathroom.

The hot water cascaded over my stiff limbs, washing away the sweat from last night. My wounds from the knife had closed and were now just ugly-looking marks. My hand reached for the shampoo. I wondered if Crowley was the only well-groomed demon. Most I've encountered required excessive amounts of soap to reduce that sewage smell of theirs.

After my shower, I wrapped in a towel, brushed through my hair with my fingers and went in search of my clothes. Had I known, I would have brought a clean pair of everything, but I was out of luck.

"Looking for something?"

My heart skipped too many beats as Crowley appeared behind me. "For all that's holy, please don't do that." I received a smirk in response as he handed me a clean pair of my clothes, I assumed he'd taken straight from my bag without the Winchesters looking.

_The Winchesters._

"Fuck!" I shouted while pulling my panties and bra on.

"What?"

An agitated noise and I nearly fell over hoisting my jeans past my hips, "The brothers; I forgot they won't know where I was."

"What will you tell them?"

"The truth." I shrugged on my shirt.

"WHAT! Now, just a moment. Why, on God's green earth, would you _tell them_ you were with a demon all night?"

I raised an eyebrow at him, "I don't have a better plan. So, please, suggestions?"

He pressed his thumb and index finger to his lips and pulled, "Why don't you tell them you banged some motel neighbor?"

It was the best I could come up with. If I'd lied and said I was with Bobby hunting, I'd owe him for covering for me. If I'd claimed to be out hunting by myself, they'd want to know _what_ I hunted. There was nothing for me to do.

Sighing, defeated, I pocketed my cell, "So what now?"

"Now I better send you back before you get a call from them." He snapped his fingers, landing us outside the motel room. "Here you go," and he turned to leave.

I glared, "You're kidding, right?"

He halted and spun on his heels to meet my gaze, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips, "Beg pardon?"

"That's it? Fuck and go? What happened to the demon that cuddled?"

"Last night was…unfortunate," He stepped dangerously close, leaning in. "If you _ever_ repeat that, I will _end_ you, you little insect." He snarled.

I laughed with no humor, "Show me what 'cha got."

His eyes flashed between mine and the next thing I knew, I was pressed against the door in a heated kiss.

Seconds later, shuffling in the room could be heard. Crowley broke and backed away, eyes lingering on mine before he disappeared from sight completely, leaving me to face the brothers alone.

The door opened shortly after and a shirtless Sam appeared in front of me. His shocked look said everything, but I pushed passed him and into the room.

"Where the hell have you been?" Dean's gruff voice sounded.

Swallowing hard, I began making direct eye contact with him, lying straight to his face, "With Howard, an Aerospace Engineer at MIT."

Sam's jaw dropped, "And how did you get back?"

I shrugged, "He drove me back from campus."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait – you're trying to tell me that you had a hook up with _Howard_ from _MIT_?"

I pressed my lips together and nodded after sitting on the edge of Sam's bed, "That's what I said, right?"

Dean laughed; actually _laughed._ He believed it, and that was good enough for me. So what if he thought less of me through this false circumstance? If he found out the truth, his opinion of me would be much lower than this.

Sam walked into the bathroom to wash his face while Dean settled down his case of the giggles. As Sam was patting his face dry with a towel, he turned to me, "How was he?"

I faked a smile, "You'd be surprised, Sammy. The things he could do with those fingers-"

"-Yuck, stop. We're done with this. Get your gear, we're hitting the road." Dean got out of bed too and proceeded to get ready.

Crowley better be happy I don't rat him out now…

Multiple pit-stops and five and a half hours later, we were at Syracuse, New York for our next hunt.

"So, what's this one about?" I asked as we popped the Impala's trunk.

"Hotel owner closed down a few months back. Too many complaints about spooks that go bump in the night. She closes up shop and figured that'll end it, but local teenagers have been climbing over the fence to get inside. Three kid's deaths later, the whole town is out to get the owner. They believe it was some sort of wiring malfunction that caught these kids on fire, but she pleads differently."

"How so?"

Sam slammed the trunk, "Oh, you know, the kids can obviously turn the power on when it's been cut off."

Dean smirked, "Lady claims she has the bill to prove it; lighting was shut off days after she closed. Now, does that seem strange to you?"

In the still of the night, we climbed the fence and entered the large hotel. It was almost bare, save some furniture.

"So, whatever it is, it lighting these kids on fire." I muttered.

We searched the entire lower section and made our way upstairs. Some graffiti already plagued the walls but mostly it was just dark and musty. A door slammed behind us. I turned, aiming my gun down the hall, flashlight in my left hand. Two teenagers came barreling towards the three of us. A quick glance at their eyes told me they were human and frightened.

"There's something in there!" the girl screamed to us as tears hit the floor.

Sam went after it, Dean following suit and watching his back. The teens barreled toward me and latched on to my back.

"You've got a gun. Please, go shoot it." The boy gasped.

"What did you see?"

"It was on fire!" the girl cried, "It looked like a walking corpse."

"I'm getting them out of here, boys." I called down the hall, grabbing the girl by the wrist and dragging her down the stairs as they boy stumbled with us. "You two need to stay away. A house is haunted? Stay out!"

"We know that now." The girl snapped, snatching her arm back. At the bottom of the stairs I turned, gun cocked in their direction. Something slammed about us and a muffled groan shook me. My eyes met the girl's again. Blackness flashed over her previously green eyes. The boy gaped, hiding behind me again. A swipe of her hand sent me flying into the wall, denting it and knocking the wind out of me.

"Julie?" the boy whispered, "What happened to you?"

"Your girlfriend has been MIA for some time now, sorry kid," came the seething voice. She glared at me, "And, you, skank," I was beginning to stand, forgetting my now useless gun. "Word travels fast. Where were you last night, really?"

I bit the inside of my cheek. How this demonic bitch even knew astounded me. "None of your damn business."

She chuckled, "Oh really? Well, we don't like pesky little humans sleeping with our relatives." She was pacing now. I made eye contact with the boy, hoping he knew that I now needed him to hold her back. He read my facial expression and I swore under my breath when he just stood there. "Especially such handsome ones."

I laughed out loud as I pulled myself to my feet, back aching, "So this is just because you have a little crush on him? That's pathetic."

Her head snapped my way so fast, "I admit, he's my type, but I'm becoming less interested after knowing he has the stench of human in his bed."

"Fuck you."

It was my chance. I lunged, grabbing a fistful of hair and slamming her head against the corner of the wall. Blood gushed from her wound and she came back swinging, knocking me in the face. My cheek throbbed but I dodged her second swing. My leg shifted from under me and I knocked her off her feet. Backing up, I kept my fists ready, rage bubbling up from her previous comments. She had no right.

As soon as she lashed out again, I was ready. I knocked her in the jaw with a right hook then delivered an uppercut and she was down again, huffing. I stomped on her ribs with my boot, kicking her in the sides as well.

"Hold her down." I told the boy. He was reluctant but followed my orders. I closed my eyes and recited the words I'd memorized some time ago. I needed to get the demon out of this innocent teenager. "Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino. Qui fertis super caelum caeli ad Orientem. Ecce dabit voci Suae vocem virtutis, tribuite virtutem Deo. Deus caeli, Deus terrae, humiliter majestati gloriae Tuae supplicamus ut ab omni infernalium spirituum potestate, laqueo, deceptione et nequitia, omnis fallaciae, libera nos, Domine-" The black smoke crashed from her lips through the floor. She lie coughing until she passed out.

"She's still breathing." The boy told me.

I nodded and grabbed my gun. When I pushed the door open, the boy stood while carrying the girl. "You don't have to tell her everything that happened here."

It was his turn to nod, "Alright. I'll tell her we were drunk and she got beat up by some girl who'd trespassed here too." I smirked as he began leaving. My cheek was bruised, I could feel it. "Hey," he stopped, "about that…thing."

"-Demon."

"Uh, yeah, was she lying?"

I bit my lip, "Yeah." I answered softly.

"Oh. Hey, nice moves, by the way. You kicked that thing's ass!" I nodded in thanks; "Kinda hot…" he trailed off and bolted out the door before I could respond.

I rolled my eyes, shut the door, wiped the blood off my lip and ran upstairs. Sam was flung out of the room and Dean was trapped against a wall while a flaming spirit stepped toward him.

"Dean, no!" I shot a silver bullet straight at the thing. It vanished. I helped Sam up, tossing away pieces of the banister he'd broken.

"We need to get this thing." He groaned.

"No, now, we leave." I grabbed Sam's arm, "We need to leave. I just dealt with a possession down there. Let's go."

Dean rushed us down the stairs and into the Impala. Sam drove and I helped Dean with his dislocated shoulder.

"So there was a possession?" Dean's gruff voice barked at me after I'd set his shoulder back in place.

I nodded, "It's taken care of. The girl's fine."

"We're making a stop to Joann's. That owner has to know something about a violent death. We should have talked to her first. That thing was powerful."

So we got to her house, not far from the hotel. I was out of it, to be honest. I'd still clung to what that demon said; how she knew about Crowley and I.

"Her name was Vickie Truoski," Joann said, "I remember smelling fire and burning hair way too late. It woke me up. I ran down the hall and found it was room 16. She and her dad were staying there. They had a weird relationship. She wouldn't even look at him. They were there for a good four days before I heard the beatings. One night he'd confronted me in the hall. He threatened that if I told, he'd find a way to hurt me beyond repair. My daughter was only seven then and I had her to worry about. I said nothing, but when I smelled the fire, I unlocked the door. He was burning his daughter alive. It was all I could do to run down the stairs to the phone. He'd attacked me when I'd called 911." My brain barely focused on the blond woman. "They came, arrested him. I had bruises all over my arms. His daughter had third-degree burns on about sixty percent of her body. She didn't make it."

"And she was fourteen?" Sam asked gently. The woman nodded, wiping her tears. "If I'd have called earlier and not worried for my family, she would still be alive."

"I'm sure Vickie doesn't think that," I spoke up, "she's more upset with her father than you. You were trying to do what was right for your family. Don't blame yourself."

Before I knew it we were gone, searching for her remains in the cemetery Joann had mentioned. Dean and Sam did the digging while I walked to clear my head.

_Word travels fast_, she'd said. If the entire demon population would be after me for sleeping with their brother, I was royally screwed and should just leave the Winchesters now.

"It's not like that, you know." I turned quickly, gun pulled from the back of my pants. I didn't lower it. He sighed, "You can put that down. We both know you won't shoot." His retort was quick, but so was my trigger finger. I played with the idea of shooting him now, "Come, come. Those butt-buddies over there would hear your fire and come running faster than you lost your head today."

I lowered my gun from Crowley, "What's 'not like that'?"

"Word didn't travel that fast. She only knew because we were…involved previous times."

"Meaning you screwed her and left."

"When you put it like that-"

"-It was like that, I'm sure. She seemed too pissed at you for laying a human. You must have hurt her little feelings."

Off in the distance I could hear Dean complaining about Sam hitting him with a shovel.

"It was an accident! _Jesus!_" Sam defended.

"You can't leave them for this. No other demon knows, that _whore_ you sent back to hell, it's all one big happy moment." Crowley's eyes were on my cheek and my cut up lip, "Well, _buggar._ She sure took swings at you."

"Yeah? How 'bout you pop in and see her meat suit? I might have broken her ribs." My anger rose again.

He sensed this and sighed, "Look, I know things seem…complicated now, but it's over now."

"Yeah, until another one of your ex-obsessive junkies attacks me from behind." At this, he laughed, "Crowley, if another demon knows, they're going to use that as a ploy to break the boys and me up. You have to know that." He breathed, nodding. "Then give me a chance to tell them before this blows up in my face."

"If I'm correct, this was _your _choice. You knew I don't want them knowing of me. How am _I_ to blame here?"

I stepped closer, "You think this puts me in a good position? I lied to them."

"It's called _survival._ If those meatheads find out about me screwing their responsibility, I will be packing straight back to hell."

This was a fight I wasn't going to win. As soon as I heard the burning of a corpse, I set my eyes on Crowley.

"Mind warning me before another psycho demon bitch is headed my way? Thanks." I began walking back when Crowley popped ahead of me again.

His voice was deep, menace laced with every word, "Not a _word_ or I cut out your tongue."

I just smirked, "Before you even have a chance to see what it's capable of? Tisk, tisk." The stunned look on his face pleased me. I pushed him aside and sauntered off to Sam and Dean who stood placing the dirt where it was previously.

* * *

_Crowley_

Tree bark scraped against my suit as I leaned back. Sash bent over to re-pack the duffle and I couldn't help but stare. Narrowing my eyes, I glanced upwards. Someone had just re-buried their little box of trinkets at the crossroads. Before I zapped off there, I focused on what she'd said. Her tongue did have my thoughts for minutes and, oh, what lovely thoughts they were, but she was right: I can't hide from the moose and his keeper forever.

I went off to work with a smirk on my face.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, guys. I know, it has been quite some time since I've updated this. I am positive that I'll be updating more often now. I have a great idea of where to go with this for now. I hope you all enjoyed. Please, review for me so I know I still have some readers. New readers? Welcome. Let me know what you think! Love you all.**


	10. Where Have You Been?

_It was the heat of the moment, telling me what my heart meant. The heat of the moment shown in your eyes._

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean called, waking Sam up. I'd just finished brushing my hair after my shower, pulled my clothes on, and walked into the room with the brothers. I towel-dried my hair as Sam spoke of Asia playing on the radio.

We went to breakfast after the boys were ready.

"Hey! Tuesday, Pig 'n-a Poke."

Sam sighed, "Do you even know what that is?"

The waitress took our orders and the boys went back to talking about searching for Bella. It'd been months since I'd seen Crowley in that cemetery, and we hadn't spoken since. I figured no news was good news, and found myself buried in jobs with Sam and Dean. Bela was no exception. She got under my skin more than I'd like to admit. When she claimed she'd worked with Bobby in Flagstaff, we all went along with it. Why not, right? Of course, she fucked us over; stole the Colt right from under our noses. Dean was currently complaining about how we should be searching for her now.

"Okay, yeah, let's get right on that. Where is she again?" Sam asked.

"Shut up."

"Believe me, I wanna find her as badly as you do, but in the mean time, we have this." Sam and Dean discussed the newest job about a professor who'd gone missing in – supposedly – a mystery spot. The waitress came back, dropping hot sauce on the floor.

To be honest, I was in my head for the most part, not really caring what was being said about this hunt. I'd read up enough of Sam's papers when I couldn't sleep last night, so listening to a re-cap wasn't helping me much.

We went in search of this Mystery Spot after it closed. We searched the place for EMF and found nothing. We had no idea what we were looking for.

"What the hell are you doing here?" we spun around and found a man standing there with a gun. The owner, I assumed.

"We can explain." Sam spat.

"You robbing me?"

"Nobody's robbing you, calm down." Sam was desperate.

"Don't move!" The guy says to Dean.

"I'm just puttin' the gun down." Dean replies.

In a second, the gun goes off. I didn't even have time to move. Dean's body fell to the floor.

"Dean!" Sam yells, running forward with me. I cradle his head in my lap, tears filling my eyes. "Call 911!"

"I didn't mean to…" the man mumbles.

"NOW!" Sam yells, and the man leaves the two of us on the floor, muttering Dean's name and crying when his breath stops.

I woke up sweating. Dean lay next to me in the bed. The three of us always played rock/paper/scissors to see who was sleeping alone. Since Sam won, he'd gotten his own bed for the night.

The dream was so realistic that tears filled my eyes seeing Dean again. I felt like I'd actually lost him. A part of me wanted to cuddle up to the man who'd acted as my big brother, but another part of me felt awkward. It was early enough to wake up and take a shower, so that's what I did.

While brushing through my hair, I heard Asia playing through the radio again. My hairbrush dropped into the sink and my eyes widened.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!"

I bolted into the room, staring at Sam who looked bewildered.

"You alright?" Dean asked him.

"No. I think I…man, I had a weird dream."

"Yeah? Clowns or midgets?"

When Dean was out of the room, I spoke to Sam about his dream and informed him that Dean died in mine. His eyes bulged, "Same here." And we were shocked to discover we had the same dream.

It happens, right?

Things went the same way they did in my dream, only maybe a few differences. We tried to explain to Dean we felt we were having déjà vu, but he didn't understand. I couldn't watch Dean go down that road again, so we told him we'd visit the Mystery Spot during the day. We started walking, but Dean got hit by a car. Dean died in Sam's arms.

I woke up again, with Dean soundly sleeping beside me. Took a shower, Asia came on, Dean woke Sam up, and we were off to another time loop.

It went on like that for one hundred Tuesdays. Dean died in so many different ways, I couldn't even believe it. My first thought was to call Crowley. Screw hiding it from Sam, we needed help and we needed it now.

Sam again got it through to Dean what was happening. We walked down the street and he turned and got a paper a woman we passed every Tuesday was passing out. It was the professor's daughter, looking for him.

The next time at breakfast, Sam informs us that the professor also writes journals about tourist attractions. He debunks places like the Mystery Spot and closes them down.

"Dexter Hasselback. Truth Warrior? More like Pompous schmuck if you ask me," Dean comments.

"Guy must've weighed a ton, he was so full of himself," Sam replied. As we got up to leave, Sam noticed something. "Guy has maple syrup for 100 Tuesdays and suddenly he has strawberry?"

"It's a free country. Man can't choose his own syrup, what have we become?" Dean joked.

"No, not today. Nothing in this place ever changes. Ever. Except us," Sam's gaze doesn't leave mine.

When we were at breakfast next, Sam was on edge. He didn't tell me anything, not even what was in the bag he carried.

When the man at the bar got up, Sam bolted after him. Dean and I followed. Outside, Sam had the man pinned to a fence.

"I know who you are! Or should I say 'what'," Sam growls, putting a stake to the man's neck while the man pleads to be let go. "It took me a while, but I finally figured it out. It's your MO that gave you away. Going after pompous jerks and giving them their just desserts? Your kind loves that, don't they?"

"Yeah, sure, okay, just put the stake down!" the man cries. My head was racing. Dean tries to stop him, but Sam yells about how there is only one thing powerful enough to put someone in a time loop. "You'd have to be a god. You'd have to be a trickster." The man tells him that he's got a family, but Sam ignores him, "Don't lie to me! I know what you are! We've killed one of your kind before!"

My eyes drop at the thought of Charlie. I thought about him time-to-time, but knew I had to move on at some point. It made things easier pretending there was nothing between us before I'd stabbed him.

"Actually Bucko? You didn't." My head snapped up so fast at that voice. He'd been in my dreams some nights, and that voice would seemingly wake me up at least once a week. The man had changed from his old form, to Charlie. Living, breathing Charlie. And I wanted to scream. Tears filled my eyes instantly. My hand covered my mouth, but I backed away.

"Why are you doing this?" Sam asks above my thoughts.

"You're joking, right? You chuckleheads tried to kill me last time. Why wouldn't I do this?" Charlie replies. Dean asks about the professor and Charlie explains that he didn't believe in worm holes, so he dropped him in one. "And then you guys showed up. I made you the second you hit town."

"So this is fun for you? Killing Dean over and over again?" Sam was still fuming.

"One? Yes. It is fun. And two? This is so not about killing Dean. This joke's on you, Sam. Watching your brother die? Every day? Forever?"

"You son of a bitch," Sam says furiously.

"How long will it take you to realize? You can't save your brother. No matter what." I'd composed myself by that time, taking in everything he was saying.

"Oh yeah? I kill you, this all ends now," Sam says, pushing the stake against his neck.

"Whoa, okay. I was just playin' around. You can't take a joke, fine. You're out of it. Tomorrow, you wake up, it'll be Wednesday. I swear."

"You're lying,"

"If I am, you know where to find me. Having pancakes at the diner," after a bit more banter, he snaps his fingers and my vision goes dark.

Sam and I woke up at the same time, Asia no longer playing on the radio, and Dean alive. We run and hug him, not even being able to explain how happy we are.

We decide no breakfast, and want to leave. As Dean's packing up the Impala, we hear a gunshot. Both of us charge down the stairs and find Dean lying in a pool of blood, a bullet hole in his chest.

Dean died once again. But this time we didn't wake up.

Sam and I decided to split up while he hunted for Charlie. I couldn't take killing him again, so I figured I'd spend time on my own for the first time in a while.

I woke up in the cold motel room, got ready for the day, and heard a knock at my door. Grabbing a gun, I carefully opened it. Charlie stood with a half smirk on his face.

"Hi," was all he said. I dropped my gun to the floor, but slapped him in the face. "Ouch!" he grunted. "What was that for?"

"Killing Dean over and over again."

He shrugged, "Understandable, but Sam needs to open up his eyes, yanno? He can't keep sacrificing himself for his brother."

"What do you want with me?" I asked after a long pause.

He kicked the gun out of his way and stepped inside, directly in front of me. He tucked a strand of hair behind my pierced ear, "I missed you."

My heart raced and I lost my breath. All the anger I'd had toward him from the shenanigans he pulled with Dean was forgotten. My mind raced with questions: where had he been? Why did he pretend to be dead and not tell me? Did his heart race like mine? Why couldn't he have told me he was alive so I could stop feeling so guilty?

Thoughts ceased when he kissed me. His hand clasped on my cheek and his lips felt feather-soft on mine. He closed the door with his foot and I pushed him against the wall. My hands gripped his shirt collar and I sheepishly looked up into his eyes. He smirked down at me, a single chuckle escaping his throat.

It was then that it hit me. The first man I'd dated in such a long time I thought I'd killed. Now he was here, alive, and smiling down at me. I kissed him – hard – on the mouth, unclasped the top buttons of his shirt, and then trailed my kisses down to his exposed chest. His head lolled back against the wall and hearing his moan drove me crazy.

He took my hands and gently led me to the bed. My heart nearly jumped from my throat as he sat me on his lap and kissed my neck. I pushed him backward and straddled his hips. Our kisses deepened and his hands traveled over my body. I ran my fingers through his hair while he pulled my shirt down and kissed the tops of my breasts.

"Charlie…"

"Hm?"

"There's not a way to summon you, is there?" I whispered.

He kisses stopped abruptly and his wide eyes met mine. He blinked a few times then stuttered out, "N-no…no. Why?"

"Well, Sam's been hunting you for a few weeks now. Our friend Bobby's been calling and last Sam told me, they were planning on working together."

"Oh, I'm here. Where's he?" his head turned to look around my empty hotel room. "He here?" he paused, waiting for my reply, "Then I'm sure he hasn't found me."

I nodded then gave him a soft, "Okay."

The room was quiet for a moment as Charlie shifted beneath me. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, sitting up in a kneeling position, still straddling his hips.

"Well you sure know how to kill a hard-on."

I laughed, hitting his chest with my hand. "Asshole."

He chuckled, "Yeah, I know…" We just looked at each other for a minute, "Wanna get some ice cream? I need something sweet."

I rolled my eyes, "Typically."

We stood up, "What can I say?"

After I grabbed my coat, we left for what would be our second date. In the cool afternoon air, his fingers laced with mine, an unfamiliar fluttery feeling filled my stomach.


	11. The Life I Lead

**Drowning In Moonlight Ch. 11- The Life I Lead**

When Sam called the next day, he told me that Bobby found the Trickster. He said that he was in the town where I was staying and that I would need to meet them at a certain address for the summoning spell.

I bit my tongue and agreed, deciding that Charlie could be wrong about this summoning thing. If there was anyone who could find his way around a situation, it was sure as hell Bobby Singer.

So I met them, greeted them both and stood watching as Bobby explained that we needed blood.

"How much?" Sam asked.

"About a gallon. Ritual says it's gotta be fresh too," Bobby replied.

"Meaning we have to bleed a person dry,"

"And it's gotta be tonight," Bobby adds. "Or not for another fifty years."

Without hesitation, Sam replied, "Then let's go get some,"

"You break my heart, kid," Bobby breathes. My eyes drop. "I'm not going to let you murder an innocent man."

"Then why did you bring me here?" Sam questions. I stare silently.

"Why? 'Cause it's the only way you'd see me! 'Cause I wanted to knock some sense into you. 'Cause I thought you'd back down from killing a man!"

"Well you thought wrong," Sam growled. "Leave the stuff, I'll do it myself."

"I told you, I'm not gonna let you kill an innocent…" Bobby began but Sam interrupts.

"-It's none of your damn business what I do!"

"You want your brother back so bad?" Bobby picks up a knife. "Fine."

"What're you talking about?"

"Better me than a civilian," Bobby hands Sam the knife. He explained that he's an old man, nearing the end of his trail, but Sam's young. He tells him that he can keep going and saving people. My eyes tear when he tells Sam and I that we're the closest thing he's ever had to family, and he can get Dean back for us. He says he wants to do this.

"Okay," Sam sighed. I scream when Bobby turns around and Sam takes out a stake, instead of the knife.

"Make it quick. Do it, son."

"Yeah okay, Bobby. But you wanna know why? Because you're not Bobby." I reach for Sam's hand too late and he stabs Bobby in the back with the stake. I cry shamelessly as Bobby's body lies there.

"Sam!" I scream angrily, "You fucking asshole!" my tears and sobbing make it hard to understand. "I can't take losing anyone else!"

"Bobby?" Sam mutters. Silence. All but my sobs. When the body disappears, I gasp. Charlie appears, holding the stake in his hands.

"You're right. I was just screwin' with ya. Pretty good though, Sam! Smart. Let me tell you, whoever said Dean was the dysfunctional one, has never seen you with a sharp object in your hands. Whoa, holy full metal jacket."

"Bring him back," Sam begs as I wipe my tears.

"Who? Dean? Dean is dead, and he ain't coming back."

"Just take us back to that Tuesday or Wednesday…when it all started, please. We won't come after you, I swear. Right, Sash?"

I stare straight at Charlie.

"There's a lesson here. This obsession to save Dean? The way you two keep sacrificing yourselves for each other? Nothing good comes out of it. Just blood and pain. Dean's your weakness. Bad guys know it, too. It's gonna be the death of you, Sam. Sometimes, you just gotta let people go."

"He's my brother," Sam said brokenly. I stare up at him, helpless.

"Yup. And like it or not, this is what life's gonna be like without him,"

"Please. Just… please,"

"I swear, it's like talking to a brick wall. Okay, look. This all stopped being fun months ago. You're Travis Bickle in a skirt, pal. I'm over it."

"Meaning what?" I speak for the first time.

"Meaning that's for me to know, and you to find out," he snaps his fingers and Sam is gone. My eyes shift to him.

"What does this mean for us?"

He doesn't answer right away. He picks me up, I wrap my legs around him, and I'm pushed to the wall in another heated kiss.

He presses his forehead to mine after a minute and speaks, "Things are gonna have to be different from now on, honey." I wait for him to continue, expecting the worst. "If they find out about me, I'm sure they'll come with their stakes raised above their heads," I nod, lowering my eyes. Was I being broken up with? "Ah ah ah ah. Nope, look at me." I do, "That just means you can't tell 'em when we're together."

"And how often will that be?" I whisper brokenly.

"Less often than I'd like, but eh, I'll pop in." He speaks and I nod solemnly at his words. "Hey, it's the best I can do, alright?" We kiss some more, but he puts me back on the ground before I'd like to quit. "Sorry, but I gotta get you back. He'll be waking up to see good 'ol Dean-o in a few."

He kisses my forehead, snaps, and the next thing I know, I'm awake in my bed, the Winchesters soon hugging and cracking jokes as usual while I prepare myself for another day.

It's the first time since I was a teenager that I wish my life were normal. I wish I could wake up, go to work, come home, get dinner on the table, greet my husband or boyfriend with a kiss on the cheek, and lie next to him every night; Charlie's chocolate brown eyes before I fall asleep and sweet kisses every morning.

I come back to my senses as Dean calls me to leave.

This is the life I lead. A demonic best friend with previous benefits, sort of dating a Trickster who I believed I killed, hunting a new creature every day, and these two boys watching my back while I have theirs. Who knew?

Despite all that, I still have two best friends. The Winchesters are all I really need in this life, and having them both here, even for this bit of time, is all I can ask for.

When I walked into the room, Dean was staring at me confusedly. I walked over to him, gave him a silent hug, kiss on the cheek and forced a smile before we walk down the stairs to the Impala.

"Dean?" I call before the three of us get in the car.

"Yeah?"

I look down then back up at him, "Don't ever leave again."

He laughs, "Yeah, sure," a quick pause and he sits down in the driver's seat, "What is wrong with the two of you sappy bastards today?"

Sam and I smirk and gaze at each other over the Impala's top. We both chuckle softly and get in.

I relax in the back, repeating to myself that things could be worse. I have my brothers and that's all that matters. Who needs normality when you have a sawed-off, hunting knife, salt, two handsome but obnoxious boys, and AC/DC blasting through the speakers? A normal house-wife life seems to pale in comparison. How stupid of me to glorify it.

Besides, without this life, how would I have met the demon who is currently staring at me from the sidewalk we just passed? A chill ran through me from the grave look plastered on his face.


	12. Confrontations and Wet Thighs

_Crowley_

I tried to keep my cool demeanor, really I did. But when I heard about that…that…_thing, _flitting about again, I was more than curious. Had he really taken a liking to her?

My pacing stopped. She's got it in her head that I'm her best buddy. I'm only trying to protect her…so what's the harm in showing a little care by investigating this new man in her life?

Within a second, I was outside of the window of her hotel room. She'd been staying there while Sam hunted for the "trickster" who'd killed Dean. If only Sam had the luck I did in finding this rat right on top of Sasha.

My first instinct was to pop in there and throw him off of her, but this was not an option, so I got right out of there.

After keeping a close watch on things, I'd discovered the three hunters to be continuing on their hunts. All three back in rotation. There was no way to get to her, so I stood on the sidewalk and watched her go. From the look on her face, it was obvious she knew we needed to talk.

I turned away in time to bump into a slightly shorter man.

"Crowley."

I smirked, breathing in the stench of angel. "Gabriel, what a joy it is to see you here." I spoke in monotone.

He grabbed my jacket sleeve and pulled me toward an alley.

"You listen here, and you listen good."

Pulling my arm back and brushing it off, I retorted, "'Well'. Not 'good'."

His jaw clenched, "You leave her alone."

"Beg pardon?"

"Sasha. You have no right to be anywhere near her."

I chuckled, "I think I'll decide that for myself, thanks."

He had the balls to swing at me when I turned away. Hit my cheek. Before he could blink, my hands were on his collar and pushing him to the brick wall.

"Now _you_ listen to _me_, you short-sighted, sneaky little prat. I refuse to let you interfere with her existence. She's happy now, yes, but lying comes with a price and I cannot wait to see your face when she leaves your arms."

Gabriel's open mouth formed a cheeky smirk, "You like her, don't cha?" a laugh sounded from him, "You're interested in her."

My fist pounded into his nose roughly, sending his head into the bricks behind him. He cried out pitifully. "You tell her what you are, or I will."

The thought of Sasha going through the loss of this freak again was the only thing keeping me from dismembering him. I threw him to the cement and began walking.

"Oh, yeah? Whatever, lover-boy."

I laughed. He thought I was joking.

* * *

_Sasha_

_Crowley p__ushed me to the wall, hands traveling down my body to find the knife. He slipped it into his grasp to throw it across the room. His kisses traveled from my neck to my navel while he fidgeted with my belt. He slid it off and pushed me against the wall even harder, body completely against mine. Grabbing both of my hands, he raised them above my head and tightened the belt around them. One hand held it together while his other moved down to my pants. He slid them to my thighs and pressed a thumb to my clit, rubbing circles while biting at my neck again._

I sat up in a shock, breathing heavy. Glancing to the bed to my right, I found a note from the boys. "Took Sam to the bar for a while; trying to convince him to go to a strip club. Be back around three." The clock read 12:43.

"Well, well, well…look at the empty room we've got here…" Crowley's voice made me jump. "Why so flustered? What were you dreaming about? Hm…?"

"Crowley…I wasn't expecting you," was all I could muster. My head still played images of our bodies pressed together.

He nodded slowly, eyeing around the room. "You know…I couldn't help but notice who your company has been as of late." I held my breath. "He was the one you killed; correct me if I'm wrong." I said nothing. "And he was the one that drove you into my arms that wondrous night, was he not?" Again, silence. "Then why, pray tell, are you _with_ him…?"

He knew. He somehow knew about Charlie and my physical relationship. Was it even a relationship? Was he mad? Crowley and I weren't dating or anything…so he technically has no right to be upset.

"Listen, Crowl…" I stood, but realized I had nothing to say. Charlie had tricked me into thinking he was dead this whole time. I cried so many nights about it and he was the one who drove me into Crowley's bed.

The room suddenly felt cold. I shivered and bit my lip, chill bumps rising on my skin. Crowley was in front of me in two steps. He stared down at me menacingly. I blinked and his hand was at my throat, pressing but pulling me to him. His lips attacked mine hungrily and I couldn't breathe. He eased me against the wall, threw his forearm above my head and trailed his other hand from my throat to my hips. Fingers dug into flesh.

Between kisses, he spoke, "Don't trust that one. He's lied to you before, what makes you think he won't do it again?" My body was feeling euphoric. Crowley always had that effect on me.

"Crowley…" I half moaned, half spoke, "He's different."

"You can say that again…" he muttered, kissing my neck.

"There's just something about him that makes me feel all…heavenly. I've never had that before, being around you and all." My smirk was evident.

Crowley bit my neck roughly, drawing blood. The pain was taken over by pure ecstasy as he licked at the wound, "You could be mine, you know." My eyes opened. His voice was gruff, "I'd give you anything you wanted for ten years. Then, you come to daddy." His hand traveled to my ass. "I'd have your soul. Bound to me; only me." He kissed my lips, "Would you like that?"

Though my body tingled in a pleasurable way, his words shocked me. He'd never spoken like this to me. My eyebrows furrowed, "Crowl-"

He stepped away then, "Just a suggestion," and disappeared.

I leaned my head back against the wall and pressed my fingers to my temples. He'd left me with a bleeding hickey, disheveled hair, wetness between my thighs, and a racing mind. What could be better?


	13. Hopelessness Within

The mirror reflected a blushing image of myself. Crowley's bite mark had finally stopped bleeding after a half hour shower. I tried to convince myself that this was nothing. Crowley wanted me for sex, and that was it. Charlie was the obvious choice here, no doubt about it.

On the other hand, I knew what the reactions of the Winchesters would be. To them, both of these men were monsters.

I held the towel tighter to myself when there was a knock at the door. I growled, expecting the boys to have lost their keys again.

"I swear to God…"

"-Don't do that." Came a voice when I opened the door.

"Ruby."

"Hi." She sauntered inside and I shut the door, "Look, I know we're both chicks here, but put on some clothes, please."

I rolled my eyes and got dressed in the bathroom.

"I'm sure you're here for Sam, but-"

"Actually, far from it." She turned off the TV and stood. "I'm here about your friend."

I played dumb, "What are you talking about?"

"Cut the crap. I know what's been going on with you and Crowley." She snapped. I bit my tongue. "Actually, every demon knows. You think when a demon's hanging out with humans, it goes unnoticed?"

"And you and Sam? That's fine?" I accused.

She shrugged, "We haven't taken our relationship to a physical level."

"Look: I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but accusing me…" I was soon interrupted.

"So he hasn't told you?"

"What?"

"Crowley hasn't told you what happened after your little night together?" her eyebrows raised. I couldn't form words. "Lower level demons destroyed the interior of that place. They tore it apart, looking for you. Did you really think what he's pulling with you wasn't going to get the attention of demon kind?"

"I don't understand. Why do they want me?"

She sighed, "You're a hunter, and he's a demon. Why would they want something like this to occur? They figure they capture King of the Crossroad's little wench, use her as bait, they get whatever they want."

"Why are you warning me?" I took the defensive, "Or is it that you're here to capture me?"

She shook her head, "All I've been trying to do is help you three. Don't believe me? Fine. I'll walk right out that door and never look out for your sorry ass again."

"Ruby…" I began, "I'm not big on thanking demons, but…thanks for the warning."

A smirk lifted her features, "Did you thank Big Daddy Crossroads after that night?"

My eyes narrowed, "Goodbye, Ruby."

"Okay, okay. But don't think this is the last you'll see of me." And she walked out the door.

Before I fell asleep, I realized that every demon we face will be more of a threat now. They know about me and Crowley. The boys did not.

* * *

Within a few weeks, we were hunting down ways to kill Lilith. Dean's deal was coming down to the wire and Sam was listening more to Ruby's plans. He apparently possessed the power to kill Lilith. Dean fought against Ruby, trapping her in a devil's trap and taking her knife. We went out to where Lilith was tormenting some family of a child she possessed. Dean's plan was to go down fighting, to take her out and get on with it.

Ruby escaped and followed us to the house. We discover that Lilith didn't possess the little girl anymore, and after bolting into a room and away from the hellhounds, Dean screamed that Ruby was possessed by Lilith. Sam and I were pushed to the wall, trapped there while Lilith unleashed her hellhounds on Dean. When it was all over, she escaped and I fell to my knees before Dean's lifeless form.

* * *

The little things in life make all the difference. We're taught to find something real and hold onto it with everything that we have. What I had was broken. Broken family. Broken home. The new family I built fell apart after Dean's death. I took my belongings and left after that. Sam and Ruby went off, so I decided parting ways was my best choice.

For months, I went on hunting and not disturbing anyone. It was a quiet life after the blood was washed from my skin. Hunting alone was a horror, but sitting in the silent motel rooms was always worse. Crowley popped in on occasion to make sure I wasn't ready to sell my soul. There were days I considered it and nights I had to drink to feel better. Though every time he asked, I would just shake my head.

It'd been so long since I'd heard a knock on the door that I mostly thought I'd imagined it. Nonetheless, I closed my laptop and opened the door.

"Sash?"

I blinked hard, gasping, "Charlie!? Is it really you?"

I embraced him. Nothing had felt better. Tears formed in my eyes.

"I was in town and heard you were too, so I dropped in." he chuckled. "How are you since Dean…?"

We pulled away and sat at the table. "I've been better." I shrugged, sipping my beer.

"Listen, I feel really bad that this happened. I tried to teach Sam that lesson, but it apparently didn't help. How is he?"

"Haven't heard much," I muttered, "He's training with Ruby, some demon he knows. They're going after Lilith."

"Whoa now…what?" he gasped, "Lilith?"

I nodded, "He wants revenge. It's been a little over three months; I can't imagine how strong he must be."

It was quiet until he spoke again, "It's great to see you."

I smiled. For the first time in nearly four months, this trickster put a smile on my face. "I thought you forgot about me."

"What!? No, no, no. I could not!" he laughed. "I've just been busy, is all. Family…trouble."

I raised my eyebrow, "A family of tricksters?"

He paused, "Yeah…something like that."

The rest of the evening was spent laughing. We watched old movies together and he brought chocolates. We collapsed on the bed after eating the whole box between us, and he shut off the lights. I shifted from under his arm, gazing up at him. He smirked down at me and kissed my lips tenderly.

My body reacted worse than usual. After being alone for months, I wasn't used to even breathing the same air as someone. Charlie's hand trailed down to my shorts. I feared him leaving again. My body ached to be as close to him as possible, but I knew that I couldn't bring myself to this.

"I'm sorry," I muttered between kisses.

His hand came up to push my hair from my eyes, "Don't be."

After a while, I laid my head on his chest and curled into him. His breathing was my lullaby. I fell into a deep slumber.

I hadn't known if what was spoken next were a dream or reality, but there was a whisper of: "I have so much to tell you" that rang through my head.


	14. A Chance

**_Gabriel_**

I had to tell her. She deserved to know. Now was not the time. There was so much I had to get straight in my own noggin first.

When I sensed the demon, I slowly got out of bed. I slid my coat on and quietly crept from the room. If she heard the flutter of my wings and woke up to find me gone, I'd be in such a mess. The door closed and I turned to take off.

"So." His voice sounded loud in my ears. "What have we here?"

"Crowley." I sighed again.

"Come now, you sensed me before. Don't pussyfoot now."

He, typically, stood with his hands clenched in his pockets. It was times like these when I recognized his nonchalant manner. He thought he was in charge.

"I know what you're here for, and I've already decided to tell her."

"Oh? This was a choice, was it?"

I gritted my teeth, "I get that you have some sick obsession with her, but nothing good is going to come out of this, Crowley."

He shifted his weight, "All evidence to the contrary."

"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

"What? You and your family planning an attack on the King of the Crossroads just for slumming it with a human some archangel has a school-boy crush on? Please."

Anger rose up inside of my vessel. I hadn't felt like this since my family's last argument. Crowley's eyebrows furrowed and he smirked. I wiped it off really quick. Grabbing him by his collar, I slammed him into the cement and took off outta there. Sasha would probably hear that and wake up.

* * *

_**Sasha**_

A loud slam jolted me from my sleep. Charlie was gone. He left a while ago, it seemed; the bed was no longer warm. I got up to investigate the sound, but my phone went off.

"Hello?"

"Sasha, it's Sam. Can you come meet us?" his voice rang through my ears as I opened the door to find a cracked block of cement.

"Us?"

"Yeah, it's Dean. Dean's back." I closed the door and ran around the room, getting my things. Sam gave me the coordinates so I stole a car and got my ass there as quickly as possible.

As soon as I saw him, I dropped my bags and ran over to Dean. We embraced tightly and I couldn't help the tears that fell from my eyes.

They gave me all the details, but one stuck out: he was resurrected by an angel named Castiel who claims that God has work for him.

The day I met Castiel terrified me. His eyes were so piercing. It was as if he knew every though – and maybe he did. I couldn't help but worry that he knew of my relationship with Crowley. Angel and demon violence was not something I was looking forward to, if that's where this was heading.

"I've heard much about you, Sasha Jennings." That single line played over and over in my head the whole night. What does he know?

When my cell phone rang that night, I stepped outside and wondered why calling me recently became so popular.

"Hello?"

"Sasha! Hey, it's…Charlie."

I breathed, "I was wondering where you went…haven't heard from you since that night. How long ago was that?" I was sort of ticked, to be honest. Sure, I didn't put out, but that doesn't mean that he can just scurry off in the middle of the night. A part of me wondered if that's all it was to him. If I'd let him have sex with me that night, would he have ran away?

"Look, m'sorry. I was an idiot and should have left a note. There's just…a lot on my mind lately, yanno? Family trouble and some other things I have to take care of." He paused, probably waiting for me to accept his apology. Call me crazy, but I was still a bit jaded. "I wanted to make it up to ya, but you were gone when I came back."

"Oh? And when did you go back?" I wrapped my arm around my waist in a feeble attempt to shield myself from the cool night air.

He paused, "A week or so…"

"'A week or so'?" I quoted him in disbelief.

"Ok, two weeks! But you weren't there and I'm just…"

"You're what? Lost without me? Bull! I'd love to be seventeen again and fall for that lovey dovey crap, but sweetie I know better. You're off with family issues and playing tricks on people. I get it. You're into your work. That's fine. But next time-"

He cut me off, "Is there any way I can make it up to you?"

"What!?" I was taken aback, "Char-"

"Look up."

"You're fucking nuts."

"Look up."

I did and practically dropped my phone. Charlie was dressed in a nice shirt and jeans, leaned against a car. He pocketed his phone and gestured for me to come over. I pushed my phone in my pocket and made my way over to him, glancing to see if the brothers were peeking out yet.

He stopped me in my tracks with a kiss. He always tasted like candy. I was weak whenever in his presence.

"I assume you're with the boys."

"How'd you-"

He pressed his finger to my lips, "You wrote down the coordinates in Sharpie in your hurry. Bled right through to the next page."

"You broke into my hotel room."

"Hey," he put his hands up, "I had to see if everything was alright in there. God knows, some monster coulda pulled you right in his grasp and taken you alive."

"Nice thought."

He nodded, "How about you go tell the brother's you're going drinking. Come out with me. Let me make it up to you." I gnawed at my lower lip. "Now, honey, don't do that. Let me do it for you." He kissed me again; this time biting lightly at my lower lip.

"Ok, fine." I pulled out my phone and shot Sam a text that I was walking to a bar.

Charlie held my door open for me and I got in the car. He drove us to some bar in hick town. I was actually feeling properly dressed. My ripped jeans and low-cut Jack Daniels shirt fit in quite nicely. We stepped into the bar, country music blasting. People danced, some sat at tables.

"I'll get us some drinks." Charlie screamed over the music. He came back wearing a cowboy hat and holding two mugs of beer.

I stepped close to him and tipped his hat back. "Nice, cowboy."

He smirked and drank some beer. I followed suit then let him pull me to the dance floor.

"So," he spun me around, pulled me back and we swayed to the music, "does this make up for it?"

"Hmm… I wonder." I teased. I hadn't been out dancing in ages. Now, so many people have a problem with country music, but my daddy used to blast it in his truck. To say it makes me feel comforted would be an understatement. Some Gretchen Wilson was playing, if I was correct. Charlie was smooth and pressed my lips to his when the song ended. The next song played and everyone cheered. Jason Aldean.

"Good song." We made our way back to the table and drank more beer.

"Dean's back?" he asked. I told him everything, even about Cas.

He tensed, "Angels?"

"Yeah, can you believe it?"

"I can, but…I've heard they're dicks. The whole lot of 'em." He drank more beer.

I wondered if he'd ever tangled with angels before, but it seemed like a tough subject. Instead, I asked him something that had been on my mind for quite some time, "So you didn't leave that night just because I didn't put out?" I spoke in his ear over the music.

"What!? No! I wouldn't do that to you." He was serious. "I'm hurt, actually. Yeah, I am what I am, but I'm no monster."

I smiled and took in his appearance, "Let me tell you, you pull off cowboy really well."

He wiggled his eyebrows at me, "Why thank ya, ma'am." He tipped his hat. My cheeks heated up. He began singing the next lyrics in my ear, "Baby, if you're in the mood and you could settle for a one-night rodeo; you could be my tan-legged Juliet. I'll be your redneck Romeo."

My heart raced at what I did next. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him outside.

"Don't look so nervous." I laughed, pulling the keys out of his pocket then handing them to him. He eyed me curiously, "Well? What are you waiting for? Take us someplace nice…with a bed."

The intense look on his face heated my cheeks. Before I knew it, we were in the car on the way to a hotel.

If he was ever going to prove himself, tonight was the night. No more tricks. No more running off. If I made him mine and he stayed, that was it.


	15. Nothing New

The door slammed behind me and I locked eyes with Charlie. My hands pulled off his hat, tossing it to the floor. He pulled me into his arms and we kissed. Fingers lingered on the button of my pants.

"Are you sure about this?"

I answered by unbuttoning his shirt and kissing down his chest. His finger touched my chin and I raised my eyes to his face once again. Before I knew what was happening, he'd pulled my shirt over my head and unbuttoned my pants. I was pressed against him on the bed, yanking at his shirt and tossing it with my clothes. Fingers unclasped my bra and piled it with the rest of our forgotten wear.

"Take your pants off." I instructed breathlessly, sliding my own off. He stared at my panties for a moment, but shifted to slide his jeans and boxers down in one move.

He breathed, "Do I have to take these off for you?" I laughed, shaking my head and slipping them off slowly. We took each other's nakedness in for a while. "You're beautiful."

A smile lifted my features and I leaned back on the bed. "You ready?"

"Don't mind if I do." He grunted.

Our bodies pressed together as he entered me. My head leaned back slowly, breathing deep. His lips attacked my neck and he moaned into my skin. Soft hands pressed into my hips harder with every thrust.

When our lips met again, my heart practically stopped. I'd never been kissed with such passion. I drew my legs around his waist. His arm held me up; lowering and raising me back to him. Lips lost contact just for us to moan. My legs dropped back to the bed, digging my heels into the sheets. He slid out of me, trailing his lips down my stomach.

I squirmed, "Charlie…wh-"

He silenced me when his tongue flicked at my clit. I gasped loudly as he sent me to heaven. Moments before my release, his lips were replaced with his member again. With his shaft hitting my spot, I dug my nails into the flesh on his back. Moaning was concealed with his hand as I came hard. My eyes opened to stare at him. I was lightheaded and gasping. His eyes were focused, intensely staring at me.

With a smirk, I rolled us over and began thrusting my hips to his and nipping at his neck. My giggle mixed with his moaning.

"Damn it!"

"What?" I nervously stopped moving completely.

"I wanted this to last." He gripped my hips and moved me for himself. I couldn't help but throw my head back in ecstasy. His pace slowed and his breathing was unsteady until I felt him pulsing inside of me.

Almost instantly after, he wrapped me in his arms and kissed my forehead. We spent more time kissing and clinging to each other until exhaustion captured my body.

"Hand me my phone, please?" I muttered. He leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed my phone.

I texted Sam again, making up some half-assed excuse of how I met a girlfriend from high school, had more drinks at her house and was crashing there for the night. Sam sent a nervous reply about how if I need him to pick me up, he would, but I responded with a simple: "I'm good."

"Sleep." Charlie whispered to me, taking my phone from my grasp and setting it on the nightstand.

His naked body pressed to mine sent shivers through me. "Do you sleep?" I asked with half-open eyes.

"No, not usually. But I can force myself sometimes." Charlie's thumb rubbed my shoulder gently.

Once again, I fell asleep in his arms.

* * *

_Gabriel_

Sasha had been sleeping for an hour and when she finally turned over; I stood and slid my clothes back on. Man, was it freggin' cold. I turned back and smiled at the sleeping form of that beautiful woman. Once in the bathroom, I viewed myself in the mirror. I hadn't felt this great in a long time. My whole vessel felt phenomenal. Without even thinking of it, I released my wings in all their glory. Damn! They looked greater when my whole vessel felt complete.

"Charlie?" came a groggy voice. I hid, trying to put my wings away. There was quick rustling as she got dressed and bolted for the bathroom. In her fumbling, I skedaddled right out of there. Now on the roof, I stared at the moon. What had I just done?

* * *

_Sasha_

"Fuck!" I gasped, throwing my hair up in a ponytail.

One chance. I gave him one chance and let my guard down. Mistake. Another damn mistake. After grabbing my phone, I left the hotel room, glancing down the halls to find empty space. I hadn't bothered putting my shoes back on as I stomped down the stairs with them in my hand. Lovely women in flowing gowns stared at me disgusted as I bumbled down the stairs in my ripped jeans, Jack Daniels shirt and bare feet. Tears stung in the back of my eyes and I clenched my fists to hold onto my shoes tighter. In the foyer, I wiped my tears with my forearm and burst to the night air.

My feet carried me away from the nice-dressed people through the parking lot. Staring at the ground, I bumped into a suited man.

"Sorry." I sobbed out, trying to press on but I was grabbed by the arm.

"What happened?" the voice was deep, growling.

I gasped, my head whipping upward and meeting eyes with the King of the Crossroads. I felt so ashamed. I'd spread my legs to the man who'd ran away before. I trusted again. I knew I needed to stop that. More people have screwed me over than I could count on both hands. My chest hurt. My knees were weak and my head was throbbing.

Taking in Crowley's nice appearance, I wondered how slutty I looked. My shirt was pulled up slightly, showing my hips. Wrinkled jeans and swollen lips no doubt completed my whore look. Crowley's hand yanked the rubber band out of my hair, making it fall back to its long length. He wiped a stray tear.

"You warned me. You warned me and I didn't listen." I sobbed. A woman walking from her car to the hotel stared judgmentally.

"What in the blazes are you looking at?" Crowley growled at her. The woman picked up her pace and was out of sight before I could speak again. "Come, come." He pulled off his jacket and slid it on my shoulders, grabbing my arm to lead me away from the parking lot.

He zapped me to his current residence and fixed me a drink. I sat, shaking on a chair's armrest while thinking about what Ruby told me. This place had been ransacked while the demons looked for me. Of course, he'd had time to fix it up, but guilt still plagued me. I put him in danger.

"Thanks." I mumbled when he stuffed the drink in my hand. Cranberry vodka. I guzzled it down. He stood opposite of me, taking me in and breathed to start a comment, "Wait. Wait…" I interrupted. "You were right. I shouldn't have bothered with him. It was a mistake. I gave him a chance and he left. End of story."

"Only it isn't." he began, "You're hurt." I glared at him, "Believe me, ducky. I've had many a female sell her soul for a lifetime with the man who fucked her and left." Anger shot through me like a bullet. I stood. "Ah, but you're an odd one, eh? You don't trust. Well, not easily. Aquarius, right? The water bearer. Easily angered, not very foolish. Acquaintances, but hardly anyone to trust; how tragic." By now he was circling around me. "But oh, the ones she trusts…"

"Crowley." One warning. That was it. Yeah, I may be tiny but he hasn't seen me in a moment prepared to attack.

"I, the lucky bastard, try warning her." He points to himself, "'Love, you're in way over your head. Stop this business, you'll get hurt.'" Points at me and speaks in a higher voice, "'Oh, but Crowley, I'm young and free! He feels like heaven!'" points to himself again, "daring compliment from yours truly, baffling retort from you, and…" he sighs, "we're in the position we're in now." A pause, "So, what is it you wanted to tell me? Maybe an 'I'm sorry' is in order?"

I stepped dangerously close to him and pondered if I'd wanted to kiss him. Instead, I left a loud slap across his scruffy face.

"You know me, yes, but don't you dare take me as a fool, Crowley. I've made plenty of mistakes. Believe me, I live them daily. Not a day goes by that I don't thank myself for getting out of these situations. I'm a damn strong bitch and believe me; this asshole trickster is far from my biggest mistake. Pipe the fuck down."

There was a moment of breathing between us. His gaze went to my eyes. Next thing I knew, I was pressed to the wall in a heated kiss. When we broke apart, I stared at him curiously and eyed the slap mark I'd left.

He breathed, "that's the Sasha I now." And he let me down, turning away. "Now, it's about time I sent you back to the Hardy Boys."

I blinked and we were in front of the hotel room I was supposed to be sleeping at with the guys. Crowley gave a silent wave and zapped out of there. Before I knocked on the door, a hand grabbed my arm and covered my mouth so I couldn't scream.

A flutter of wings and a tan trench coat.


	16. Fire In Your Eyes

Bird calls and rustling of leaves filled my ears. I jerked my hand away from the angel and stepped back.

"I am sorry to startle you."

I swallowed hard, nodding stiffly, "Castiel, what is it? The boys are sleeping; if you wanted I could have woken them up."

"That won't be necessary. I intend to speak with you." I waited for him to continue, "My superiors aren't fully aware of what you and the demon Crowley are doing, but they will be."

"What does it matter to the angels? Yes, he's a demon, but I'm sure I'm not the first human to spend time with one."

He gaze was sent to the sky, "Do you…understand what this could mean for you?" he paused then sighed, "I don't want you to feel the wrath of heaven. They've done much for you."

My vision was getting fuzzy and my head spun, "What do you mean-"

"The boys should be waking up soon," he stepped closer and grabbed my hand again; "you must stop it."

I was sent back into the hotel room, head still spinning and the brothers asleep.

* * *

Gabriel's POV

Months had passed since the incident with Sasha. I knew that I should drop in and apologize, but I hadn't had the guts to do it. So, I focused all my time on my work and giving assholes their just desserts.

Fate is a funny little thing, isn't it? Just when I was starting to forgive myself for not even tryin' to contact Sasha, I get wind of the Winchesters being in town.

Now don't get me wrong, I get that I should leave them be. But honestly? I owed this to my family. Sam and Dean needed to figure out that they had to play their roles. Michael versus Lucifer: the fight to remember! Come on, it had to happen!

So, instead of minding my own, I dropped little Sam and Dean into an alternate reality while Sasha investigated the fake call on the police scanner I sent out. The boys were now in TV land. I made my appearance as Dr. Sexy, but Dean knew quite quickly that I was not the doctor.  
"Where the hell are we?" Dean blurted after I made my daring transformation from Doctor Sexy to sexy ol' me.

"Like it? It's all homemade. My own sets, my own actors…call it my own little idiot box."

Dean didn't miss a beat, "How do we get out?"

"That, my friend, is the sixty-four-dollar question."

"Whatever. We just, we need to talk to you. We need your help." He gave me that puppy dog face.

"Hm, let me guess: you two muttonheads broke the world, and you want me to sweep up your mess."

Sam spoke again, "Please. Just five minutes. Hear us out."

"Sure. Tell you what, survive the next twenty-four hours, we'll talk."

Dean piped up, "Survive what?"

"The game!"

"What game?"

"You're in it." I smirked.

"How do we play?"

"You're playing it."

Dean was so frustrated and inside I was laughing hysterically. "What are the rules?" he growled.

I just raised my eyebrows, smirked and vanished while my extras un-paused and let the Winchesters make their way through as many TV genres as I could muster.

I arranged a room just for this moment. I'd planned to tell her the truth wherever she happened to be at the moment, but decided against it. My eyes surveyed the white walls. I snapped a few red chairs in, a bed, fireplace, candles bright, and champagne. Hopping on my heels, I breathed. It was now or never.

Snapping once, I began pouring and waited for her familiar presence to fill the room.

"Charlie?" her voice was soft.

I turned, mid-pour then held out a glass to her, "In the flesh."

Her delicate hand touched my face. The slap was so sudden. Alcohol splashed onto the floor.

"Where the hell have you been? Bringing me here to shag then leave?"

"Since when do you use that term?" I joked.

"You ass." She seethed. "Send me back. Right. Now."

I'd never heard her speak so darkly and I'd be lying if I said it didn't rustle my jimmies.

"I brought you here to clear the air." I stepped over the broken glass. She stepped back when I raised my hand to her arm. My hands went to the air, claiming innocence, "Are you gonna hear me out or not?"

She crossed her arms and plopped down on the bed. "Go on." Her glare was piercing.

I breathed and ran a hand through my hair, "Ok, well…my name isn't Charlie, it's…uhm…it's Gabriel." A pillow hit my face then landed in the glass, "Hey!" I glared up at her and saw her clenched jaw. "Sasha, with you acting like this, it's really hard for a guy to confess anything."

"Maybe you should have thought of that before you left me alone in that bed, _Gabriel_." She sneered, "Is that another tick you like to play; having a girl scream the wrong name?"

I stopped mid-breath, "Sash, listen kiddo…"

"Sasha."

"Huh?" I looked at her quizzically.

"You don't get to call me 'Sash'. Now, continue, _Gabe._"

I downed some champagne, "I tried to tell you the truth time and time again, but…well, the more I saw you, the bigger the lie got and-"

"There are more lies?" she uncrossed her arms and gripped at the satin bed sheets.

"Sasha, I'm an angel."

"The hell you are!" she exclaimed.

I sighed, "No, really." Her glare lessened and I revealed the wings I'd hidden from her the last night we spent.

She stood slowly, stepping closer to me in awe. The look on her face was pure wilderment, but behind her eyes I saw betrayal and hurt. I lowered my head in guilt. Her heartbeat was so near, I gaze up again. She was directly in front of me.

"May I touch them?" she spoke softly. I nodded slowly, about to beg her not to touch too long. Us angels had a problem when it came to touching our wings; it was the most amazing feeling.

When her fingers reached my highest feather, a chill ran through me. She hummed softly and proceeded to pet my wings so delicately. I threw my head back and gasped. She made her way to the center of my back, rubbing thoroughly. My hands stuffed in my pockets, making my best attempt to hide the reaction my body had. I bit my lip in need. It had been so long since anyone touched my wings.

"Sash…"

"Gabriel, they're beautiful…" she was in front of me again, her eyes searching mine.

I know there is so much more I have to tell her, but first I needed to taste her again. So that's exactly what I did. To my surprise, she didn't squirm away. She let her hand touch my cheek and then the edge of my wing. I moaned and backed her onto the bed, putting my wings away so as not to injure them. My mind raced when I could smell that demon on her clothes, but I trailed kisses back to her neck and pushed the thought out of my mind. I needed her to fall for me, not that demon. She was my favorite taste and daddy never taught me to share.

"Gabe." I didn't stop until the third calling of my name.

"I missed you." I muttered, kissing her palm.

"I missed you too…" she spoke after a pause. "But, you know about what's going on then?"

I raised my eyebrow, "the apocalypse? Yeah. 'Course I do."

She sat up, "The boys! They need to know about this! They were going to ask your help and hope you had a trick up your sleeve, but this works so much better!"

"Whoa, hold up."

"Where are they?" she asked, excitedly.

"Alternate reality." I mumbled.

"What!?"

"They just found out they have to play their roles in the game. I sent Castiel away because he broke through."

"'Play their roles'?" she quoted me.

"You know, Sam starring as Lucifer. Dean starring as Michael. Their celebrity death match. They just need to play their roles." Before she could speak, I stood, "Actually, I'll be right back. Time to go speak with them. Stay here. Make yourself comfortable."

I zapped into the sitcom setup the boys were currently in. After a bit of hilarious dialog and sending Cas out of the way again, the boys were beyond pissed.

"You want us to say 'yes' to Michael and Lucifer?" Sam spoke shocked.

"Hells yeah, let's light this candle!"

Sam spoke again, "We do that, the world will end."

"Yeah? And whose fault is that? Who popped Lucifer out of the box? Hm? Look, it's started. You started it. It can't be stopped. So let's get it over with!"

"Heaven or hell, which side you on?" Dean questioned.

"I'm not on either side."

"Yeah, right. You're grabbing ankle for Michael or Lucifer. Which one is it?"

"You listen to me, you arrogant dick. I don't work for either of those S.O.B.s, believe me."

Dean retorted, "Oh, you're somebody's bitch."

My smile vanished and I grabbed Dean by the collar then slammed him into the wall, "Don't you ever, ever presume to know what I am. Now listen very closely. Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna suck it up, accept your responsibilities, and play the roles that destiny has chosen for you.'

"And if we don't?" Sam spoke.

I grinned again, "Then you'll stay here in TV Land. Forever. Three hundred channels and, uh, nothing's on." I snap my fingers and get sent back to Sasha who is sitting in a chair, has her feet on the table, and is drinking directly from the champagne bottle. "I'm gonna have to zap out of here any second now to see the boy's reaction to me making Sam Knight Rider."

Sasha stood quietly, "Why didn't you tell me about this sooner? You knew about Castiel. You knew how close he's gotten. I would have believed you. Why did it take you this long to say anything?"

"We had a good thing goin'. It wasn't a good time to inform you that I had to lie."

"When was a 'good time'? After you fucked me and ran out?" she wasn't yelling, but speaking harshly.

"I had to leave because my wings came out. I couldn't let you find out like that."

"It would have been much less painful than this." Her eyes held no tears. I saw her white-knuckled stance and knew I'd stepped wrong. She didn't deserve this.

"I never meant to play with your heart, Sasha." I assured.

"Well, intention or not…" she drifted.

I put it together in that moment, "Are you upset because I knew all along about your thing with Crowley?" Her pupils dilated. "Yeah, I lied, but you weren't exactly a saint either." I paused, "Yanno, that dick threatened me. He wanted me to tell you about myself. He wanted us to fight and stop seeing each other."

"He was right, you should have told me."

"Yeah, maybe, but what are you thinking, Sasha? Slumming it with a demon!? The King of the Crossroads? You know what his plans are, right?"

"Yes, a demon. But Crowley has been truthful with me."

"Yeah? I'm going to take his truthful ass and smoke him with holy water until all that's left is a pile of goo."

I watched her eyes; the windows to the soul. In that moment, I knew I should have kept my mouth shut. "Take me back."

"What?"

"I never want to see you again."

"Sasha…"

"One step too far, Gabriel." Her voice started strong but ended as a whisper.

Before I could reply, I was being called by the brothers. I left her there; no doubt she would tear that room to shreds until I snapped her out.

Dean screamed, "All right, you son of a bitch! Uncle! We'll do it!"

"Wow, Sam. Get a load of the rims on you."

"Eat me." Came his voice from the Impala.

"Okay, boys. Ready to go quietly?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, not so fast. Nobody's going anywhere until Sam has opposable thumbs."

I laughed, "What's the difference? Satan's going to ride his ass one way or another." Dean just stares. I roll my eyes, snap my fingers and Sam gets out of the car, "Happy?"

"Tell me one thing. Why didn't the stake kill you?" Dean questioned.

"I am the Trickster."

"-Or maybe you're not."

Sam held up a flaming cigarette lighter and tossed it down. A ring of fire shoots around me.

"Maybe you've always been an angel."

I laugh, "A what? Somebody slip a mickey in your power shake, kid?"

"I'll tell you what. You just jump out of the holy fire and we'll call it our mistake." Dean spoke gruffly. I laugh then stop. I am sunk.

We return to a warehouse, me still stuck in the circle of holy oil. I asked them where I screwed up, but they assure me that no one gets the jump on Cas like I did.

"Mostly it was the way you talked about Armageddon." Dean nodded. "Well, call it personal experience, but nobody gets that angry unless they're talking about their own family."

Sam steps closer, "So which one are you? Grumpy, Sneezy, or Douchey?"

"Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel."

"The archangel?"

"Guilty." I shrugged. Dean questioned how an archangel becomes a trickster. "My own private witness protection. I skipped out of heaven, had a face transplant, carved out my own little corner of the world. Till you two screwed it all up."

Dean sniggered, "What did Daddy say when you ran off and joined the pagans?"

I spoke seriously, "Daddy doesn't say anything about anything." Sam questioned why I ditched and Dean made some arrogant comment about my brothers being 'heavyweight douchenozzles.' I glared, "Shut your cakehole. You don't know anything about my family. I love my father, my brothers. Love them. But watching them turn on each other? Tear at each other's throats? I couldn't bear it! Okay? So I left. And now it's happening all over again."

I explained that it can't be stopped, the apocalypse.

"You wanna see the end of the world?"

I raised my arms, "I want it to be over! I have to sit back and watch my own brothers kill each other thanks to you two! Heaven, hell, I don't care who wins, I just want it to be over."

"It doesn't have to be like that. There has to be some way to, to pull the plug."

"You do not know my family. What you guys call the apocalypse, I used to call Sunday dinner. That's why there's no stopping this, because this isn't about a war. It's about two brothers that loved each other and betrayed each other. You'd think you'd be able to relate."

Sam stared, "What are you talking about?"

"You sorry sons of bitches. Why do you think you two are the vessels? Think about it. Michael: the big brother, loyal to an absent father, and Lucifer, the little brother, rebellious of Daddy's plan. You were born to this, boys. It's your destiny! It was always you! As it is in heaven, so it must be on earth. One brother has to kill the other."

Dean grew defensive now, "What the hell are you saying?"

"Why do you think I've always taken such an interest in you? Because from the moment Dad flipped on the lights around here, we knew it was all gonna end with you. Always." Dean tried to explain that it's not going to happen, but I assured him that it was. "Guys. I wish this were a TV show. Easy answers, endings wrapped up in a bow...but this is real, and it's gonna end bloody for all of us. That's just how it's gotta be." There was a long pause, "Are you gonna let me out?"

"First, you bring Cas back and get Sasha here." After some ridiculous threat from him, I snapped my fingers and brought them both to the warehouse.

They assured Sasha and Castiel were both fine, and I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Anger pulsed through her veins, a tinge of hatred. They all begin to walk out.

"Guys?" I spoke surprisingly nervously. "Are you just gonna leave me here?"

"No. We're not, 'cause we don't screw with people the way you do. And for the record? This isn't about some prize fight between your brothers or some destiny that can't be stopped. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family." Dean hit the fire alarm and the sprinklers go off. I glance upwards, allowing the water to cascade down my face while it put the fire out.

When I look back down, Castiel and Sasha are the only two in the room. Cas glances back then exits. I could still taste Sash on my lips and if I closed my eyes and focused, I could feel her soft fingers pressed into my feathers.

Our eyes locked. Though water poured over her, I could see the redness in her eyes. A single tear mixed with the water as she looked at the ground, but her eyebrows furrowed when she glanced up next. That look sent me off-balance. She turned and left.

I had one job. One. And I gave it my all. Father, forgive me.


	17. Jealousy

_Sasha_

Over the next two weeks, I drown myself in my work. Every hunt available, I threw myself into. Sam and Dean were concerned but instead of questioning my motives, they sent silent glances to each other.

It wasn't until Sam slammed his laptop on my fingers that I looked up. My head ached from staring at the webpages for hours.

"I think it's about time you stopped." He spoke sternly, "You've been on this direct route to exhaustion for the past week straight. You can't keep doing this to yourself, Sash!"

"Sam, I'm fine."

Dean stood beside his ginormous brother, "No, he's right. You take the day off, we'll go after Chuck."

"What's wrong with Chuck?" I questioned.

"Just texted me; life or death situation apparently. We're going. Should be a full night's drive." I insisted on going and as soon as we reached our destination – which took nine hours – the boys dropped me at some shady motel. When I got a phone call from the boys, I answered worriedly. "What's wrong?" I began throwing a coat on, expecting to have to steal a car and fix whatever the boys broke.

"False alarm." Dean spoke, "It's some convention for Chuck's damn Supernatural books. That fangirl Becky sent out the text. We're gonna make sure there's nothing going on and be back soon."

After I hung up, I pulled the hair from my ponytail and began undressing for the shower. The ten minutes of pure hot water was just what I needed. I pulled the curtain back, bending down to reach my towel, but a figure caught my eye. A scream erupted from my throat, completely startled. My arm pressed against my bare breasts, hand reaching down to cover between my closed legs as I leaned against the wall.

"Now, no need for that." Crowley spoke, "I've seen your naughty bits a time or two before."

I sighed heavily but didn't move, "Hand me the towel?"

He raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to protest, but I glared. "Fine." When I reached to grab the white towel from his grasp, he pulled me forward and kissed me. I was taken aback but let him wrap the towel around me, pick me up, and press me to the wall.

"It's been too long." I whispered against his neck, blinking hard. "So much has happened." I couldn't help the fact that my voice broke.

He chuckled deeply, "I know all about that." I pulled away and looked at him quizzically. "I spoke with the angel. Try as I did to get him to tell you." He set me down, watching as I walked over to my clean clothes and began dressing, "That's not why I've graced you with my presence." I huffed, "There've been a few demon sighting lately, hm?"

"Ya think?"

He shifted his weight, "Listen. I'm working my way up through the ranks, alright? More of those little bastards are after the both of us. Watch it."

I stood now, dressed in a tshirt and panties, "You're kidding, right?" he remained silent, "You're expecting me to keep this from the boys still while I hope that those demonic sons of bitches keep their damn mouths shut about whatever we are?" My cell rang and I answered.

"We've got somethin'. We could use you." Dean screamed into the phone. I sighed, taking down the address. After we hung up, I slid pants on and watched Crowley snap his fingers. A car started outside.

"Thought I'd save you the trouble."

I shook my head after locking the door and getting in the car. It took me five minutes to get there, granted I was doing sixty. As soon as I got out, I eyed the people getting into their cars. Every last one was dressed like Sam or Dean.

"Sash," real-Dean called me over.

A fake Dean checked me out, "Hey, Sasha. Lookin' good!"

"Keep walkin!" real-Dean shouted to the man, "Sam needs you over there. Glad you made it." I sent him a confused glance but made my way over to Sam, Becky, and Chuck.

Chuck hugged me and rested his head on my chest. I rolled my eyes, patting his back, "Hey there…Chuck."

"That guy was right, you look-"

"Ok! What's the big to-do?" I gasped, pulling away and standing beside Sam. Becky glared at me with her arms crossed over her chest. "Hey there, happy." I feigned excitement, grabbing onto Sam's bicep. Her glare increased so I rest my head on his chest and wrapped my arm around him. I heard him laugh slightly. Pissing Becky off was a main priority of mine.

Sam spoke, "Hey, Chuck, if you really wanna publish more books I guess that's alright with us." I pulled away from him.

"Really!?" Chuck was excited.

"No not really We have guns and we will find you."

Sam and I began walking away when Becky bolted after us. "In chapter 33 of Supernatural – Time Is On My Side – there's that girl Bela? She's British and a cat burglar?"

"Yeah, I know."

"She stole the Colt from you and then she said she gave it to Lilith, remember?" she paused, "Well, you know she lied, right? She didn't really give it to Lilith."

"Wait, what?" I raised my voice, looking between Becky and Chuck.

"Didn't you read the book?" her voice was snarky. I took a single step forward but Sam's hand reached in front of me. "There was this one scene where Bela gives the Colt to a demon named Crowley; Lilith's right hand man, and I think her lover too." My mouth dropped open but I quickly closed it. Chuck's eyes bore into mine. He knew. He was a prophet after all. He _knew, _and he'd likely seen Crowley and I…together. Heat rose to my cheeks.

"Crowley. Chuck, didn't it occur to you to tell us this before?" Sam's voice cut my stare short.

"I'm sorry. I didn't remember. I'm not as much of a fan as she is." Was his response, but a part of me wondered if there was more to this than meets the eye.

"Becky, tell me everything." Sam spoke.

I turned on my heels, expecting to make a quick escape, but my hand was grabbed. Chuck pulled me inside the hotel foyer. Dean and Sam cosplayers still left, eyeing me and making comments they believed Dean would make.

"I know everything." Chuck's voice was shaky.

"What all did you write, you little fuck?" I seethed, practically pushing him through the wall.

"I didn't write your involvement with Crowley in the books. Readers didn't need to know that." After he spoke, I breathed a sigh of relief. "He didn't tell you he had it, did he?" I pulled away, shifting my gaze, "And he didn't tell you he was involved with Lilith either." It was more of a statement than a question. "He _sure_ tells the truth often, doesn't he? And you thought Gabriel-"

I grabbed his collar then, "You know nothing of my situation. You've seen it, yes, but believe me, buddy, you know nothing."

He shook slightly, "Does it make it better if I tell you that you look _great_ naked?"

I hit him then; directly in the jaw and stormed out, over to Dean.

"Nice seeing you again!" Becky called to me. I saw right through her façade and sent her a one-finger salute.

I slammed myself back into the Impala, leaving whoever's car I stole in the lot. My head ached once again. Crowley technically didn't lie to me since I never asked him, right? Though, I never came out and asked Gabriel if he was an angel. Maybe he wasn't telling me to protect me. Maybe both of them wanted to keep me in the dark so I didn't get hurt. The feeling in the pit of my stomach knew otherwise. Crowley was covering his own ass. He wasn't telling me because of self-preservation. This had nothing to do with feelings for me. He was a demon. This was obviously going to happen.

After the boys got in the car and we started driving, Sam explained to Dean how the Colt was given to Crowley and how they needed to – I quote – "hunt him down". My blood boiled, anger setting itself deep inside of me. How I'd become so attached to a demon was beyond me. I stared as the passing scenery.

Lilith was his lover. His _lover_. The unfamiliar feeling of jealousy trickled down my spine.


	18. Over My Head

Dean and I left for a beer run one night. Sam was back researching Crowley, hoping to find his whereabouts so we could hunt him. My head has been all kinds of fucked ever since, but this was the first time in a while Dean and I had been alone, and I couldn't help but stare at him while he drove. The beer rattled in the back.

"What?" he spoke, dragging on the 'a'.

I sighed and straightened in my seat, "Dean, can I take the Impala for a drive after you and Sam start drinking?"

He did a double take and I saw his jaw clench and unclench repeatedly, "Why?"

"I need to get my head screwed on right. This whole angel, heaven and hell business is overloading me. I don't want to see either of you guys hurt."

His hand rest on my thigh, "I suppose. Just be careful." He turned into the parking lot, shifted gears, and watched me. He leaned in and wrapped his arms around me. "I'm not all-for this touchy-feely, self-help, yoga crap, but I can see you're hurting. Cas told me you've been stressed." My heart thudded in my chest. Hopefully that's all he told him. Now standing outside of the car, case of beer in hand, he bent down to view me in the window. "Take this." He handed me Ruby's knife and I nodded stiffly, setting it in the back of my pants.

I pulled away with Dean staring at me. My purse sat on the seat opposite and I thanked my lucky stars that Dean hadn't questioned it. I never carried a purse, but when you planned on going to the crossroads, it was hard to carry everything in your pockets. Crowley had not come when I called for the past week. I needed to warn him about the brothers.

After parking, I went to the middle of the crossroads and buried my box, waiting for the demon to show.

"Well, look what we have here. Hello, gorgeous." I turned to find a very handsome man. His red eyes flashed, "What is it that I can do for you?" His dark hair and muscular form made me smirk.

"How about a nice kiss for you?" I joked, but he hadn't found it funny. "Alright, let's cut to the chase; I need to talk to Crowley."

"Well, for that, I'd need a kiss. Your dream boy, huh? I can call after big daddy crossroads, but how about you spread your legs to me first? You seem to do that a lot with demons."

I smirked, "Right. You know so much about me."

"Enough to hear your screaming in hell."

"You'd like that wouldn't you? Well listen here, you obnoxious prick, one wrong move and you'll be off the game board before you can even smoke out of that ridiculous vessel." I challenged, stepping closer, but clapping cut me off. Gazing to my left, I noticed Crowley.

His lips pursed, "Joy, seeing you here." He nodded at me, "Troy, down." 'Troy' didn't budge. "Now!" Crowley's voice crackled.

"You better believe I'll be coming your way, princess. I'll have one of my friends drop in."

With a snap, Crowley sent Troy away and all of his attention was focused on me. My body relaxed, his familiar presence calming me.

"So, what brings you in my quarters?"

"Why didn't you tell me you had the Colt?" without an answer, I took a deep breath, "This could have gone so much better, Crowley! What were you thinking? Now the boys care coming after you! They're going to kill you. Why didn't you-" his laugh cut me off, making my anger rise more.

"You think I didn't know they'd find out? I sent word out on the grapevine. I want them to know, darling. Have a little faith." His steps drew closer to me and he lowered his head. Fingers touched my face and I again melted into him, letting him kiss me deeply.

One quick move and I was behind him, pressing Ruby's knife to his throat. His hands rose up in innocence and a noise that sounded purely like sin escaped his open mouth.

"Why didn't you let me know about Lilith?" I seethed through clenched teeth.

A simple tightening of my grasp made him laugh again, "You think I find this frightening? Really? You're standing on your tip-toes to reach my neck." He paused, "You're five feet tall. Ducky, this isn't going to work in your favor." Before I could blink, he reversed the situation, blade now pressed to my throat. "Please," his voice dropped, "we both know you'd never use it." My anger swelled and I elbowed his stomach, making him grunt and pull away. I then turned and kicked him in the crotch. He dropped the knife which I retrieved.

"Tell me. You and that demonic bitch…"

"-were a thing." He finished for me in a tight voice, hand gripping his manly bits. I would be lying if I said that his bulge didn't make me bite my lip. He straightened, "Off and on for a few years. When we desired a release, we had it."

"While she held a child's vessel?" I was appalled.

"Bloody hell, what do you think I am!?" he sighed when I raised an eyebrow. "She had a more pleasant body at the time." He noticed my nostril flare, "Well, look at that. You're jealous!"

"Fuck off." I grumbled, placing the knife in the back of my jeans.

"That's rich." He wiped a fake tear. "Sash…"

"-Did she…have you…in this body?" my voice lowered and his eyes sobered.

"No."

Four simple steps and I grabbed his tie, pulling. I gripped his naughty bits with the other hand, and kissed him roughly. He groaned into my mouth, pressing fingers to my hips.

I broke away quickly, "Good."

"That's it?" he called to me, watching me get into the Impala.

"Yep." I started it, "The boys said we leave tonight. Big Daddy Crossroads, might wanna watch your back." I slammed the door, threw it into drive and pulled up beside him. He leaned in the window where Dean had been an hour before.

"I've been anticipating this moment," he informed me, hands shoved in pockets and lips again attacking mine.

"And what if they find out about us?" my eyes traveled back and forth between his.

His reply was simple, "Cross that bridge when we get there, love."

I drove off then, gazing in my rearview as he rocked from heel to toe, sending me another infamous smirk.

"Oh, I am in way over my head…"


	19. Kisses and Blood

So here I stand, outside of some oversized mansion, and I can't help but wonder if this is the place I've seen only the inside of. My heart swells with thoughts of our last meeting here. Crowley had kissed me against the wall and forced me to be brave. He'd made me forget all about Gabriel and his deceit. He's showed me such compassion, from the day he found me in those woods, to even hours ago. And what if the boys find out about us? They'll never forgive me. They'll likely force me away from him, but that's the last thing I need. Crowley makes me feel whole, despite every fiber of my being that tells me to run. I have trust issues, but Crowley has given me every reason to trust him. Hiding the Colt? That was to save my ass, too. How could I have explained where I got that information from? The brothers would never believe it. And Lilith? It was never my concern what happened in his past. He hasn't faulted me for Gabriel, so who am I told hold this against him?

"Ready?" Sam's voice cuts through my thoughts and I'm staring at his enormous hand. A can of red spray paint rests in them and I look up questioningly, "For a devil's trap." I nod, exhaling a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

The whole way here, I was lecturing Sam and Dean about Crowley. I lied, telling them that Chuck took me aside to tell me how powerful Crowley was, when really he'd just explained about Crowley and I having sex. My cheeks still reddened at the thought.

"You were right," Dean pipes in as we wait in the distance for Jo Harvelle to press the call button beside the large, black gate. She'd insisted on coming. In all honesty, I never got along with other female hunters, but Jo was different. We both understood each other on a profound level. She was hunting in her daddy's memory and, well, so was I. "We got no idea what we're up against in here." Dean's voice is ruff as he whispers, "So we keep close. Might as well try to negotiate. Hell, maybe we can get him on our side. Might be nice to have someone powerful workin' with us." He pats my shoulder like a proud big brother, and his eyes shift back to Jo.

"Hello, my car broke down. I need some help." Jo's desperate voice calls into the speaker.

"I'll be down in a minute," the man calls back. Jo, in her black slinky dress, shivers and rubs at her arms. The gates open. She walks slowly in to meet the two muscular men. Dean tenses as one checks her out and calls her 'pretty lady'.

"I just need to make a call." She nods, but the man voices that all the help she will need is theirs. Jo decides to go back and wait by her car. By now, the boys and I are sneaking in the gates. The man puts his hands on her and in an instant she knocks him to the ground. Sam charges and stabs the two with Ruby's knife.

"Nice work, Jo." Dean mutters, handing her the duffel where she reaches to pull out wire cutters.

She's going for the electricity next and the boys lead me toward the front door. We enter, guns raised just in case. Music blares in the distance. Dean and I search the rooms, no demons in sight. That is, until I spot Crowley. I hold my breath, wondering what his reaction would be to me sneaking up on him. He's always the one appearing from nowhere and frightening me. I've seen him angry more times than I can count, but never with me directly.

Beside myself, I motion to the room so the boys know I've found him. Dean and I stand guard as Sam spray paints a devil's Trap on the underneath of his rug. They plan to lure him into it and negotiate. If things get bad, I can just cut up the rug. Might cost me some explaining to the boys, but at least Crowley would get away. Just as Sam's finishing, the power goes out; Jo successfully cutting it off. As my eyes adjust to the dark, Sam is flipping the carpet back and I hear the familiar military steps behind me. I whip around and Dean pulls me toward him. Guns are raised and my heart is hammering so loud, I'm sure the boys can hear.

"It's Crowley, right?" Sam cuts in as Crowley enters.

"So, the Hardy Boys finally found me. Took ya long enough." My spine tingles with chills, but I keep my façade. "Ah, what have we here? Ms. Jennings. Still a stow-away on the Winchester pinnace, I see." For a moment, our eyes lock and I'm certain we'll be found out. But time keeps moving and I somehow find a way to breathe, and Crowley steps forward. He stops; takes a glance at the rumpled corner of the rug Sam didn't have a chance to lump down. He flips it up, Sam and Dean more on edge now than ever. "Do you have any idea how much this rug costs?"

Hands grab me from behind, Sam and Dean too. My gun is being ripped from my hand and pressed into my back. Sam and Dean struggle with the demons holding them as I feel breath on my ear.

"Hiya, there, toots." I recognize that voice; it's Troy, the obnoxious bastard from the crossroads. My eyes plead for Crowley to come help me, but he's digging in his suit jacket. Instead, I help myself and kick backwards toward Troy's shins. A gunshot goes off and white, hot pain shoots through my hip. As I'm tossed to the ground, Crowley quips something about how the boys came for the Colt. Three more gunshots sound, bodies hitting the floor behind me. Hands are on me once again while the boys pull me back to my feet. My hand clutches my wound, oozing blood, it pumping onto my palm and down my fingers. Crowley holds the steaming Colt, having shot the three demons, leaving the boys and I. We meet eyes again and I watch his gaze drop to my wound then back again.

"We need to talk. Privately." We follow him into an office, Sam shouldering me the whole way through.

"God, you're losing a lot of blood." I lazily glance at the trail down the corridor we walked, ready to apologize to the demon for the mess. I'm lightheaded and struggling to see straight, the feeling of shock slowly slipping from me and light glistening in the corners of my eyes. If the blood would stop pumping, I'd be slightly content.

A scuffing noise sounds, hurting my head, but Sam is pushing me in a seat and he stands protectively beside me.

"I apologize for that one." Crowley motions to the hall, "Was a bit of a git." His shoes penetrate the sound of my heart thudding in my ears. He stands before me, glancing as Sam throws a protective arm between us. "Down, boy. Just trying to help." He fluffs out a handkerchief and lowers it to my wound, moving my blood covered hand. Our fingers touch for just a moment, and I'm staring at him. He straightens, swipes his hand to close the door, "You know how deep I could have buried this thing?" his hands fumbled back to the Colt, likely feeling nothing from the contact of my skin. "There's no reason you, or anyone, should know this even exists at all. Except that I told you."

"_You_ told us?" Sam steps forward.

"Rumors. Innuendo. Sent out on the grapevine."

"Why? Why tell us anything?"

Crowley aims at Dean, "I want you to take this to Lucifer and empty it into his face."

Dean purses his lips, "Uh-huh, okay, and why exactly would you want the devil dead?"

"It's called – survival." The gun is lowered and I glance at Dean who relaxes slightly. "Well, I forgot you two at best are functioning morons."

Dean shuffles his feet, "You're functioning...morons..." I press Crowley's handkerchief harder against me and roll my eyes.

"Lucifer isn't a demon, remember? He's an angel. An angel famous for his hatred of humankind. To him, you're just filthy bags of pus. If that's the way he feels about you, what can he think about us?" after this, Sam replies with the offering that Lucifer created demons, "To him, we're just servants. Cannon fodder. If Lucifer manages to exterminate humankind, we're next. So, help me, huh? Let's all go back to simpler, better times, back to when we could all follow our natures. I'm in sales, dammit! So what do you say if I give you this thing, and you go kill the devil?"

My head pounds. So much information is being spilled currently, and it has taken everything I have to stay conscious. Normally, Sam and Dean would be all over this, but there are bigger things than a bullet in my side. The boys glance at each other as Crowley extends the Cold, handle first, to them.

"Great." Sam responds hesitantly, and grabs it. He asks where Lucifer is and Crowley says something about Missouri. I jolt to my senses when Sam raises the Colt between Crowley's eyes and pulls the trigger. I jump, blood gushing faster. I know I should have kept it cool, but the thought of Sam killing Crowley – my Crowley – was enough to make me scream. Thankfully, it wasn't loaded.

"Oh, right, you'll probably need some more ammunition." Crowley reaches in his desk, unimpressed.

Dean interjects, "Oh, uh, excuse me for asking, but aren't you kind of signing your own death warrant? I mean, what happens to you if we go up against the devil and lose?"

Crowley straightens, "Number one, he's going to wipe us all out anyway. Two, after you leave here, I go on an extended vacation to all points nowhere. And three, how about you don't miss, okay!? Morons!" his screaming caused his face to redden, but the image is gone after he tosses something to Dean and disappears. I glance toward Dean's hand; bullets for the Colt rest against his palm.

"Awesome. Now let's get you back to the motel." Dean suggests, picking me up without asking me if I can walk.

I sit in the back of the Impala with Jo, pressing my fingers back against the wound. Crowley's handkerchief is already drenched in crimson. I'm feeling shaky and weak when we pull up to Bobby's. Sam carries me in the guest room and brings me the first aid kit. He knows how I get with cleaning my own wounds, so he offers help once and walks out after I glare at him. Daddy always taught me that I needed to take care of myself and my own wounds. I stumble to the bathroom and lock the door then fill a glass with water, grab the tweezers and the bottle of alcohol. I sit on the ledge of the tub, leaning against the wall to catch my breath.

I jump slightly upon hearing a sigh that was not my own, "Knew I should have shot him ages ago." Crowley stands before me, hands tucked into pockets.

"It's fine," I slur and begin to lift the corner of my shirt up. He helps me, pulling the bloodied cloth above my head and tossing it to the floor. I sit before him, again in a bra, wondering how many times he's seen this sight. Fingertips brush my cheek and wipe a smear of blood off.

"Now, let's get you cleaned up, shall we?" he kneels beside me, takes the tweezers from my hand after some struggle, and begins expertly digging. I try to focus on the music playing from the other room, the cheers as Cas knocks back drink after drink, but when Crowley begins pulling at the bullet lodged in my flesh, I can't help but cry out. A half grunt, half breath escapes me and Crowley pauses momentarily to look at my face, then back. He pulls, drops the bullet in the glass of water, and stands to grab what he needs to stitch me back up.

I place my hand on his shoulder then, pressing into him when the stitching gets rough. Once he's done, he inspects my blood on his hands and wipes it off on a towel. We both stand and I use the wall as a support. My vision is glossy and I think he can tell. He just smirks and leans into me. I lose count of how many seconds our lips are connected, but I'm anticipating another kiss when he steers me back into the guest room. This door isn't locked, nor is it shut completely. Being caught is a given, but this seems to urge Crowley on. He pushes me to the plush bedspread, easing himself on top of me. I notice how careful he is not to hit my wound, but at this point I don't care. I want his fingers all over me. I want his body pressed against me as hard as he wishes. I want to see this demonic side of him we got a peak at today. His lips press to my neck and every fear of someone walking in flutters away. I am melting beneath his touch and holding onto these sensations is the only thing keeping me from breaking down.

Lucifer could kill Crowley. I could lose him without even being present, and that scares me like nothing else. Crowley mumbles something into my neck and I'm pulling away quickly, begging him to repeat what he'd said.

"I said: I hope the boys keep you here." My eyebrows furrow in confusion. He rolls his eyes, "If they manage to do this tonight, do you really think they'll bring injured ol' you?" My heart stops. They could die tonight. I need to be with them. "Ah, hadn't even crossed your mind." He seems all too pleased with himself. "But, trust me, have I got something in store for you." In an instant, he's gone, the only thing left of his presence being rumpled sheets.

I tape up my wound, toss a button-up on, clean the bathroom, and am standing in the doorway just in time to hear the brothers decide to keep me here with Bobby.

"It's okay, kid. We're just the injured, useless, sons of bitches who get to sit here and worry that they're dyin." Bobby's words don't comfort me in the least.

We all group around an old camera and take a final picture together, and saying goodbye to them all is near impossible. I hold on to each one of them like my life depends on it, even Castiel who stands stone-faced and breathing choppily. I tell the boys that I love them and watch them drive off, sending up a shaky prayer that they return safely. It's all I can do not to run after the car.

After an hour of pacing, Bobby sends me out to get food. I read his chicken scratch as I monotonously walk the aisles. Something feels completely wrong. After paying, I drive Bobby's truck back, hand him everything, kiss his forehead, and admit how exhausted I am.

After locking the door to the guest room, I turn to flop on the bed, but I'm grabbed. When I open my eyes, there's a moment of pure fear that escalades through me: my eyes are open but I see only blackness. I feel him on my flesh though, and his chubby fingers relax me momentarily.

"I know what's going through that pretty little head of yours. You want to see what you're up against, hm? Well, it's about time." His whispers send chills through me again. I'm being led forward then my back is pressed to cold metal. I hear chains clinking, metal clasping around my thin wrists. The blackness goes away when Crowley tugs the blindfold from my eyes. His smirking face is what I see first, and then the surgical pan of trinkets. "You're ready for this, aren't you?" when I don't answer, he reaches to unbutton my shirt. The air is cold and still. I can smell a hint of blood and I wonder if it's my wound or something entirely different. My pants are ripped down, tossed aside, and I'm left in panties and a bra. "Better?"

"Crowley, where-"

"You don't like it?" he inspects a knife then comes at me with it. The cold metal traces down my torso gently and then he creates lines of crimson that leak like faucets. He stops and something deep inside me wants him to keep going. He only presses his fingers against my panties, smirking. "Well, well. Naughty girl, hm?" He gets on his knees, teeth clamping down on the fabric to pull it to the floor. I kick them off while his hands grasp my thighs. The knife trails tauntingly from my knee to my gunshot wound, the flesh cutting simply. I gasp loudly and throw my head back. His mouth presses against my inner thigh, drops of blood covering his recently shaved cheek. When his tongue flicks my clit, I see stars.

"Please." Is all I can muster.

Without hesitation, my demon begins lapping at my wetness, nipping my clit. A finger is inserted in me, and then another. I can't hold back the scream as his other hand rubs horizontally at the new cut he's made. I can feel the skin tearing more, but that's exactly what he wants. His hand cups around me, replacing his mouth and his thumb rests on my clit. I'm moaning loudly as her rubs against that certain spot and coherent phrases are lost to me.

Crowley laughs for the first time in a while, so I open my eyes. He's crouched only slightly, staring directly into my eyes. "Haven't felt you this wet before. Someone has a fetish for being chained up, I suppose?" My legs are growing tired and I can feel my cum mixing with the blood running down my leg. A small puddle of crimson unfolds below me and I've already kicked out of my flip flops. "Ohh, someone's close…" he mumbles next to my ear. My legs give out momentarily, making his finger press hard on my spot and I'm pushed over the edge. I'm on my tiptoes, rocking my hips against his hand and feeling the bruising on my wrists from the metal bonds. When I'm through, he laps my juices from his fingers and presses a rough kiss to my lips. "I'd keep this torture going, but…" he tosses the knife, "I can't help myself." He snaps and his trousers are undone, dick hard and sheathed in a condom already. My breathing comes out shaky and he steps forward. I hoist my legs up, wrapping around his waist. He holds me around my slim middle and eases himself into me.

My only thought is to pull his jacket off, trail my fingers through his hair and bite into that tempting flesh on his neck, but I cannot. This frustrates and turns me on more than anything I've experienced.

"Crowley, uncuff me." I growl sternly.

"Oh, so you think you can make orders now, really?" He pushes me into the metal behind me, pulling his hips back and then forward. All the pain from my injuries and the pleasure he's currently causing me is enough to send me over the edge once more. Minutes pass by, dirty things are whispered into my ear, but I'm dealing with such ecstasy I can't recall a single word of it. "Fuck." Is the only thing I comprehend, and when he stops I open my eyes. I am glazed in a sheen of sweat, blood drying on my wounds. He uncuffs me and I instantly wrap my arms around his neck. He pushes me off. I am dropping from this momentary high when he sets me down on a table and tosses my clothes at me. He grabs some kind of apron and begins making up some half-assed tourniquet.

"Crowl…what?" is what I manage, but one glance and I'm redressing.

"Bobby Singer. He's looking for you. About to break down the door."

At these words, I feel myself slowly waking from my foggy mind frame. My arms are working quickly to dress myself and I stand on shaky legs. Crowley turns me around and pushes me toward a door. My vision flashes and I'm back at Bobby's. I do a once-over in the mirror, insuring no blood is visible. Bruises adorn my wrists and I toss a hoodie on as Bobby screams about breaking down the door. I sprint, unlock, and open it.

"What gives, kid!?" Bobby is pissed.

"I-I'm sorry. I was sleeping." My disheveled hair seems to prove it to him, but I add, "I'm a heavy sleeper after blood loss. Sorry."

"It's okay, kid. But it's Ellen and Jo." He wheels toward me and takes my hand, "They're gone, kiddo."

Too many emotions race through me. Bobby is holding the hand that was pulling at Crowley's hair moments ago. My legs are still shaky, and my head pounds. I haven't slept off this blood loss, and I was torn apart even more by Crowley. Jo and Ellen, two people who were always such a support, are now dead because of this, and I can't even bring myself to ask about Sam and Dean. I break down in Bobby's arms. This is too much.

An hour later, I have swollen eyes and am all cleaned up in bed. My hair is still wet and I wonder how broken Sam and Dean are. Death rose. The Colt didn't work on Lucifer. Sam and Dean are here now, burning the picture we had all taken earlier. I want to comfort them. I want to whisper that everything is going to be okay, but exhaustion takes a hold of me like a hellhound and I'm asleep in minutes.

_Blood – rivers of it – fill my vision. Screaming and piercing sounds haunt my eardrums. I can feel a blade in my chest. I can feel it itching against my pumping heart. Black eyes glaring at me, brown ones holding fear. Drying blood pulls at the tears in my flesh and every breath aches. I see flashes of light, red, a lot of red, and then images of Crowley and I today. I can see the torn flesh on my thigh from this evening, but this time the skin peels back and I view muscle and veins. I scream, but Crowley does nothing._

When I wake up, sunlight is peaking through the blinds and I cannot catch my breath for the life of me.


	20. Road of Goodbyes

The days pass us by like a train. It's as if we fix our eyes and strain to collect the colors dancing in our vision, but all we see are blurs; images of every freight car speeding by. Each important, but lost to us.

I try to pick the boys up, to explain that Jo and Ellen would have wanted us to keep fighting, but it's almost like this was the final straw. We've all lost so many people, and maybe this was the final one before the strength that is the Winchesters broke. So I busy myself with silly things; restocking the food and beer, collecting as many snippets of newspapers in the slight chance a hunt could pass my eyes.

Crowley is everywhere and nowhere. I feel him near when I'm alone, but I could be imagining things because one glance around and I know he's not there. The brothers have wanted anyone to blame for the sacrifice Ellen and Jo made, and Crowley is the unlucky bastard they chose. When they do speak, they rant about how Crowley knew the Colt wouldn't work. To say Crowley is number one on their hit-list would be an understatement.

"Hey, Sash," when I hear Dean's voice, I enter the motel room. The air conditioner was broken when we got here and it's cooler outside, but the nights are freezing. By 11:30 I had to be inside or I'd see my own breath. "Mind gettin' me some pie?" This had been the first request in a week, so I eagerly accepted. The boys have found interest in some articles. Any excuse to cover up the numbing silence was welcomed with eager eyes.

He let me take the Impala down the road to the store again. I hadn't been gone even thirty minutes, but when I return, I can't get out of the car quick enough. The bag was hastily tossed to the ground as I raise my gun on the open door. There is blood on the frame. Three black eyes stare back at me when I ease inside. The brothers are bloody, pressed to the walls by one demon each. The final one smirks in my direction.

"Welcome, harlot. We've been expecting you." My trigger finger itches, but I know this bullet would be useless. The boys are cut up pretty badly.

"And you are?"

"A friend of Troy's. You remember, the one at the crossroads? The one you let your lover kill." At the word _lover_ my breath leaves me and eyes flicked toward Sam and Dean who glare.

"What'd you-"

"Tell them? Oh, everything: including how you two have been slumming it." Ruby's knife lie on the floor, kicked away from us all, but I go for it. I hit Troy's friend upside the head with my gun and dive for the blade. The two demons holding the brothers are after me, as I assumed they would. My knees scrape against the hardwood. With pure luck, I manage to snatch the knife. The one cuts me with his ring when his fist hits my face. I flick my wrist and kill one demon, and toss the knife to Sam who kills the other. Troy's friend eases his way out of the door, saluting us and running for his pathetic life.

I am shaking when Sam closes the door. They were more interested in me than hunting down a demon?

"You have known Crowley this whole time?" Dean accuses.

My fingers play with the ends of my hair, "Yes."

"And you never told us Bela gave him the Colt!?" Sam's roaring voice shakes me.

"I-I didn't know! We never discussed it."

"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't discuss much when you were beneath him. How long have you two been…?" Dean can't even finish his sentence without pounding his fist into the wall.

"A while, I don't know."

Sam steps toward me and I back up out of instinct. "How long was this gonna go on before you told us?"

"I wanted to tell you, but Crowley-"

"Lemme guess, he swore you to secrecy."

I bit my tongue at their accusing looks, "You don't even know him. You're assuming he knew the Colt wouldn't work. How is this different from Sam and Ruby?" my anger is getting the best of me and I felt trapped between the boys and the wall.

"They're not sleeping together!" Dean points a finger in is direction, a small vein throbbing by his temple.

Sam straightens when I shoot back, "Yeah. Not yet." I hit the nail on the head. There was some fooling around going on behind closed doors; you can't pull the wool over my eyes.

"Tell us how you know him!" Dean was ready to rip me apart. A bust of frustration and I am walking to the door. I leave without a word.

By the time I walk back, it is because of the chill. The door is left open for me and the brothers are sleeping inside. The cut next to my eyebrow throbs and so do my scraped knees, but cleaning myself up is the last thing on my mind. This whole time, I've been wandering, hoping to change my own mind, but I know what I must do. The Winchesters are safer without me. More and more demons will be after me, and they have a mission. The brothers cannot get distracted.

Their sleeps are heavy, as they usually are. The only noises I make are the stir of an unzipping duffel, the shifting of items inside, and soft steps toward the door. I didn't have much, but it's all with me now. I take one glance back, shut the door, and begin a slow pace toward the road. Sometimes there's good in goodbye. I can only hope this keeps them alive a while longer.

Halfway down the highway it starts to rain. Cold and tired, I thumb for a ride at midnight. After what seems like twenty minutes, a truck driver stops. He slides across the seat, opens the door for me, and asks where I am going.

With no thought, I shrug, "Wherever you are, I suppose."

He nods and I get in, closing the door behind me before he throws it back in gear and speeds off into the dark. The moon casts shadows over his face, but I soon stop glancing his way.

"What brings a little thing like you out here all by herself?" We're doing about 70 down the road and my stomach is uneasy.

"New start, I guess." My fingers play with the strap of my bag across my chest.

"You runnin' from something?"

"I guess you could say that."

"You're bleeding."

I don't miss a beat, "Wasn't watching where I walked."

He pauses and chuckles darkly, "Now that's a good one."

I glance over, "Excuse me?"

"I can smell demon all over you." And his eyes flash black.

I reach for my belt loop. The knife. Sam and Dean need it more, so I left it. I begin reciting an exorcism, but he opens the door and pushes my shoulder before I can defend myself. My bag still slung across me, I tumble to the pavement, hitting hard. Blurs of trees and blackness cloud my vision as I am thrown across the ground. My body aches. I bite my tongue so hard blood spurts from my mouth as I cough. The wind was knocked out of me from my fall and I gasp for air. The gouge on my temple gushes. I have to fight to keep my eyes open. My knees bleed down my legs, stinging, gouged messes. The road burn hurts and tingles on my shoulders, cheek, and neck. To make the moment worse a door slams a few feet away. Heavy footfalls send shockwaves through my eardrums, causing my head to throb more.

"You really thought you could get away that easy?" the truck driver laughs again, kicking at my bruising sides. "I'm surprised you had the lady balls to leave the brothers. And look what happens on your own. Not so tough now. You're gonna die."

Though he stands above me I can barely make out his features with my blurry vision. I take a stab in the dark and croak out, "You're Troy's little fuck buddy." I spit blood on his boot.

"Like the new meat suit?" I feel like each bone in my body is breaking, but I refuse to beg him to stop. "Troy was just trying to climb up that ladder. He deserves to be higher than Crowley." as he's about to stomp right on my ribs, he stops. "…no!" I blink hard, trying to make out his expression.

Glancing back in wonder at what he is staring at, I only see a blurry figure a few feet away. A scream pierces through my ears, a strong wind kicks up, I close my eyes, and my head hits the dirt once more. Arms wrap around me, but I black out before I can tell who holds me tightly.

When I come to, I see white and I'm still in someone's arms. My mystery person sets me down and I blink through my cloudy vision.

"Ah, you're awake."

I jolt up and instantly regret it, the pain escalating, "Gabriel."

Taking a woozy look at myself, I see we must have just popped in here: every wound is still gushing blood and destroying the couch beneath me. My breathing is strained but I try a steady breath and cough more blood.

"Now, Crowley should have watched his back. I saved you, he owes me. Besides, I could kill him when he takes one wrong step."

At hearing this again, anger pulses through me – over the blood and the pain – I just want to be gone, "Take me back, you cocky shit."

His eyes sober, "At least let me heal your wounds." When he comes at me, I kick him straight in the gut. He's angry within seconds and he snaps his fingers. We're back on the side of the road. I can see my blood on the pavement still. Forcing myself to stand on wobbly legs, I stumble forward and away from Gabriel. I am lightheaded and throbbing, "You're getting on my last nerve. I'm trying to help you here, and all you can do is accuse me of being the bad guy." I don't reply. "Fine, I'll be the bad guy." He leaves me in the pouring rain, lightning illuminating the sky.

It's what I wanted, but a part of me was begging for him to heal me. The corner of my vision is going black. I refuse to let myself cry and instead drag my beaten body to a tree, away from the road but drenched and shivering. I pass out again, resting myself against my duffel.

* * *

Crowley

When I'm informed of Sasha's leaving, I can't help but breathe a sigh of relief. The brothers were ready to track me down last I checked in, and without her, they'd have no lead. A few demons crash into the office I just arranged. Moving up in the ranks has its perks.

"Sir," oh, how I could get used to hearing that, "the one after the girl, Ennis, is dead. An angel took him out."

My fingers scratch nonchalantly at my facial hair. Pardon me for assuming the feathered ass-monkey would stay away from what no longer belonged to him. "Where is she now?"

"Just off of I50." At this, I blink and am standing on the road.

It was pouring there, and cold, too. How many hours had it taken the henchmen to discover her whereabouts? How long had she been bleeding? How could that dickwad angel leave her in this state? _Add more points for me._

I pick her up instantly and she comes to, seething in pain when the duffel bag slips onto a cut. Without a word, I zap us to my current home and slide the bag across the floor. She's shivering as I place her in the shower, hot water running. A part of me is trying to keep up appearances with her. I've yet to tell her how high in the rankings I am getting. Troy and Ennis were lower level wankers. They planned to use Sasha as leverage in getting the rank they want – or _wanted_. I'm just glad she managed to get away. I look disgustedly at myself in the mirror. When I began caring for someone's well-being was beside me, but currently I was invested.

I can hear her heart pounding and with each passing second, it strains. Though I am higher on the food-chain, I have yet to master healing, which would come in considerably handy now. So I cut off all her clothing and throw the scraps of bloody, soaked fabric around the room in a rush. My eyes can't help but fixate right on the bruises across her torso that lead up to the cuts along her arms and legs and the gushing blood from her temple. Chills still rack through her body even though the water is scorching. Her breathing is ragged and eyes slowly closing. With a huff, I toss off my jacket, roll shirt sleeves to elbows, and begin cleaning each of the wounds: a grand total of fourteen. Sasha's breathing intensifies and she weakly lifts her hand up to move my arm, pushing the alcohol-dipped cloth away from her still-pulsing temple.

"This needs to be done." I growl, overpowering her easily.

The raspy cry that comes from the depths of her throat causes me to inhale shakily. After centuries of torturing in the pit, hearing her scream of pain pleases me. I need to hear it again. So I drag the cloth away and wet it more with the alcohol while feeling a tightening in my trousers from the anticipation of another scream. When I press it to her skin again, I bite my lip and stifle my moan from her vocalized pain. My eyes linger on her nakedness a bit too long and I pull back, hearing her heartbeat in my ears over the humming of the shower.

After disposing of the bloodied towel, I wash my blood-soaked hands in the sink and pat them dry on my shirt. For a second, I'm back in Hell, readying the equipment for torture. Screeches from other rooms penetrate my ears and I grin in the memory. This screech was Sasha's, and I'm back, hand reaching down to cup the bulge in my pants. Quickly I shut my eyes and breathe deep. If I manage to successfully save Sasha once more, the odds of her ever doubting me will be slim. I spin around, open eyes when a loud thud sounds. Sasha's body lie shivering in the corner; lips blue and teeth chattering.

"Bullocks." Of course that hard-headed twit tried to stand. Hands fumble for the nozzle, turn the now-cold water off, and pick up the chill bump covered body. I carry her out to the bed, feeling the cold air of the room. Honestly, I never noticed temperature much, so the air conditioning was still on, which needed to be changed. A flick of my wrist and it shut off. "You're gonna get hypothermia." I mutter to her, now realizing her shivering had stopped and her eyes were closing. "Stay awake for me, darling. Come on." The plush towel is draped over her nakedness and I began rubbing at her bluish skin. She seemed uncaring of the blood still dripping from the gouge in her forehead and I snap a finger in front of her face. She sat, unfazed. "Fuck." My voice echoes louder than I thought, but her erratic heart beat is pulsing in my ears.

The only thing I can think to do is dress her. So I quickly unbutton my dress shirt and pull it on her, assuming it's warm from this vessel's body heat. Another simple wrist movement and my coat slings over her shoulders. For the first time since, well, ever – I feel entirely useless. My powers are growing, but the important things I've yet to master. All I do is rub her arms to warm her body, lay her down, and tuck her under the covers of my bed. A snap of my fingers and the heat roars on. Sasha's breathing is barely there and I painfully listen to her heart beat fading.

Anger suddenly pulses inside my core. If only I had been stronger by now; I could have healed her wounds like that angelic twat. I link my fingers behind my head and hold my breath. I see red everywhere My vessel is heaving for air, and with one loud grunt I flip my hand-chosen furniture. Antiques I'd collected over the centuries cascade to the floor and I curse every last buggered bastard in all of creation. How had I let this happen to her? Why did I care for this pathetic human so much? No one mattered to me – until I stumbled across this sniveling mess of a woman, standing proud and alone in the midst of an empty field. I can still see her features in the moonlight. It caught the curiosity of the demon pack I'd been with; ah, the younger years of being a soldier on Hell's lines. We'd just destroyed a house of eight; all hunters, all on our heels. I could see how helpless she looked, but her features held strength like no one I'd encountered before. Yet, there was something I couldn't put my finger on. She'd always been…different, but I've yet to discover why. Maybe that's why I find it so important to keep her on my side; don't want a weapon like that joining the wrong team.

These moments of anger and memories cloud my senses, but when I stop, I hear a heartbeat growing steadier. Hands in pockets, I saunter over to the bed to find Sasha turn, eyes half-lidded.

"Come to bed?" she'd spoken so softly I marvel at how I'd even heard her. Despite myself, I slide in and press my scorching body against her and stare desperately at the wall, searching for an answer.

Sasha sleeps for sixteen hours. Soft breathing was heard most of the night and into the early morning. Ask me and I won't admit it but I'd closed my eyes a time or two; comfortable to say the least. She'd tossed and turned most of the night, until I slid her on top of myself. She rests her head on my chest and remains still the rest of the morning. I regret that move instantly. Her thigh brushes up against my dick, giving me a halfie at the thought that she isn't wearing panties

_Focus on anything but now. Not the branches of water that cascaded down her tone, bruised middle or how soft her legs are against me. Don't think of how simple it would be to take her now – that's not what she needs. Her body is weak, despite how strong it looks. Self, do __**not**__ do this. Wait for her to come to you._

I'd slept. I had actually dozed off for a good hour before I was woken up to her fingers in my hair. I clear my throat and open my eyes, blinking the sleep away. Sasha lies on top of me still. Resting her weight on her elbows she runs a hand through her now dry, wavy hair. It falls back in her eyes as she drops her hand to touch my scruffy cheek. The sun rays around her make her look like something that fell from the heavens. Her skin has now returned to its healthy color and her lips are no longer blue. My eyes meet hers. Hazel, lacking any makeup; absolutely stunning, and I'd seen eyes like that before.

My vision blurs over, flashing to something red. It leaves me breathless and aching. I'd seen something; almost like a vision.

"Crowley? Hey…" she calls me back to reality before I could examine what it was. The bloody thing felt familiar. It felt warm and my eyes won't leave hers. I slide her off of me and stand, running a frustrated hand through my hair. She was clearly shaken by my abrupt movements and she sits up. My eyes are wide, searching, and I stare anywhere but at her. After a moment, her tiny bare feet touch the wood floor and I trail my eyes from her toes to where my shirt ends mid-thigh. Again, my hands sulk in my pockets, trying to conceal the stiffy that keeps rising up at the worst plausible moments. I'm like a hormonal teenage boy, damn it! She walks shakily over and grabs my forearm to steady herself. "Are you feeling alright?" Why she was asking _me _that was a wonder.

I clear my throat when the doorbell rings and she releases her grip on my arm, standing on her own and watching me walk down the hall, to the door.

"Sir?" Grayson, one of my men, stands opposite me, suit neatly clinging to him. He's eyeing my shirtless form curiously and I narrow my eyes at him. _None of your business._ "It's…uh…the girl. The others, they're discussing going after her, too. Last anyone spotted her she was near-death by a tree in Houston. Did you get her?"

I can't help but snarl, "I'll get right on that." and slam the door in his face.

Breathing helps my pounding head, so I take a few hurried breaths before entering to find Sasha on the bed. My shirt is unbuttoned as she stares down at her torso bruises. I take in the sight until she jumps up, closing the shirt to cover herself.

"Oh, it's just you." She sighs, relieved. To be truthful, I barely listen as she discusses her head, back, and neck pain; my mind is on her naked body pressed tightly to mine so many nights ago. My name is being screamed hoarsely in my thoughts, but softly in reality.

"Hm?" I raise my eyebrow. She smirks a bit, pointing down to my extremely evident boner. Two steps and I'm in front of her, pressing my fingers into her bruises, "Are you entertained by this?" She grits her teeth in pain, but laughs.

"Apparently, my savior has some other priorities to take care of." Her hand cups me once again, like she did so many nights ago at the crossroads. I force my hips to stay in place and not let her win this. Her stance shifts as I press my knuckles into her cuts and her hand moves with me. Tongue-in-cheek, I moan inwardly. How long had it been since I'd last felt her? I can see her pupils dilating, but she pulls back, "Now if you'll excuse me." And she saunters off down the hallway, likely to explore. Her jagged breathing is evident and I'm curious if it's from our moment or her wounds.

Letting out a frustrated growl, I slide my arms into a clean shirt and button it on the way into the bathroom. Blood coats the tub walls, but that's not my concern currently. One hand reaches for my zip, the other slamming and locking the door. Never before had I shown such a need, let alone _felt _it. Twice. I'd felt her _twice_, and _damn it_ such forbidden fruit should wither beneath my touch. She'd played coy before, when we'd first gotten to know each other, but I'd known I'd have her; I could sense her arousal even back then. I'd heard some half-wit demon use the term before: blue balls, the humans called it. _Cock tease._

I ran some water over my palm, pulled out my length, closed the wet palm around it, and began stroking; slow at first but soon rougher. _She's begging for me, wetness dripping down her thigh as she asks how she can please her king. A flick of the wrist, buttons of her shirt scatter and she's on her knees; wide-eyed and heavy breathing. She's pulling me out then. Hands like ice make me suck air between my teeth. She's dipping her head down and wetting my tip with her saliva. I catch a glance at her nipple and hum, pleased. A warm tongue licks – balls to tip – then around the corona and back to the underside of my dick. She's teasing so I buck my hips into her unsuspecting mouth and watch her gasp. Sasha gets the idea and takes me as deep into her mouth as she can. A hand is placed on her head and I thrust into her, pace choppy, but sending waves of pleasure through my vessel. She grabs my hips and traces her tongue across my tip every few thrusts. I've felt everything before, everything but this, and it comes as a pleasant surprise. Who knew she had these tricks? My breathing grows uneven and I twist my fingers through her hair. She moans, the vibrations increasing my need to release tenfold. I reach the back of her throat twice and that's all it takes; I'm leaking into her mouth. Sasha. Sash-_

I throw my head back, moaning loudly as warmth covers my hand. The release left me with tunnel-vision and a mess dripping from my coated hand to my slacks. _Worth it._ And yet, I still don't feel satisfied. _Bugger all._

* * *

Sasha

Crowley's new place must have been expensive. I wonder how many people he killed to get here. He hadn't told me who was at the door, but I'd royally pissed him off when I refused to let him seduce me, so I should have figured I'd be left in the dark.

Truth be told, the brothers were right: I shouldn't be screwing around with Crowley. Even though he's helped me too many times to count, I should keep it strictly friendship – or business. No matter how wonderful he made me feel, I knew he'd been around; he'd probably seen it all – not to mention _done _it all.

I compos myself and slip back into the room, quietly searching for my duffel. With him wherever, I change into my clothes so as not to give him any ideas. I wrap the wound on my side quickly. For some reason he'd held me all through the night and it felt….no. Sasha, get ahold of yourself! If you want this to be strictly business, then you're going to have to stop these thoughts!

He's a _demon_. I'm sure daddy's looking down, proud as ever at who I've chosen to spend time with. But I did make the right decision in running off, away from the Winchesters. _We protect blood; no matter the cost, _daddy would always say, and Bobby was gruff when agreeing that, _family don't end with blood._ No truer statement had been given. Bobby took a better role of 'father' for those boys than John ever could. He had more love in his heart than anyone I've known. Walking away from that was one of the hardest things I've had to do. Looking back, I've lost nearly everyone but them, and I'll be damned if they're killed because I fucked a demon.

At the sound of a muffled groan and breathy gasps, I slip back out of the room; cheeks reddened and mind traveling into every gutter. The house was empty when I roamed; he's by himself in there. I don't know whether it's pride or desire that shoots through me, but I like it. My eyebrows knit together at the thought and I stride my way into the kitchen. Cupboards are opened and slammed back; he barely has anything in here! Finally settling on making myself a bagel with cream cheese, I bite into it and moan. Food has never tasted so good.

When I crack my back, I feel the wrapping on my side tear at my skin and the familiar feeling of re-opening a wound.

"Wouldn't do that," Crowley's voice rings in my ears, "if I were you." I remove my hand from my side slowly and look up. "Didn't get a chance to check if you needed stitches." He saunters over to the counter I'm sitting on. "Figured warming up your near-hypothermia body was more important." He sends me a smirk.

"What do you mean 'warming up'?" I am honestly infuriated as I turned to stare at him. "Crowley, how dare-"

He holds a hand up, "Please. I'm trying to provide useful information to you and you want to talk naughty bits?" he pauses, "You're alive. That's what counts for you, right?"

I raise my eyes to meet his again and for a second I watch fear flash over him. It's gone before I can confirm anything, "You're getting higher on the food chain, yes?" I give him a second to reply – which he doesn't, "Call your goons off of the brothers _right now._"

"I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"I said 'can't', and I meant it."

"You've got five seconds before I'm slugging you." My arm tenses.

He sighs, "More powerful me means more frustrated demons, get it?" I crack my knuckles, "I've royally pissed everyone off. Working on getting the juice to cast them out for now. Believe me, I'm trying."

"Well try harder." I hiss.

He pauses again and smirks, "You could be my little experiment." I raise an eyebrow, "I've been told to start with the basics and the rest will come like a blood rush. So, basic starting block number one? Healing."

"Why didn't you try last night?" I jump off the counter, returning to my short height.

"I've told you: hypothermia, remember? Plus you conked out too soon after." We're walking down the hall and into some kind of office. Antiques rest around the space, paintings hang on the wall, some absurd picture of him dressed in a Nazi-styled uniform, an expensive-looking desk, and a large Turkish rug. Had he decorated this himself? I inwardly laugh at the idea of Crowley waltzing around this room, humming like a stay-at-home mother as he places every item in its current state. "Ready?" we'd stopped before his desk.

"So, how exactly does this work?" without a word, he lifts the bottom of my shirt and rolls it up. His fingers begin pulling at the wrapping, tossing it in the trash beside him. My wound is crusted with dried blood and the cells were beginning to make scabs. He presses his hand onto me and closes his eyes, mouthing something silently. I feel a pain shoot through me and glance down to see blood coating his hands. My heart thuds loudly in my eardrums as the blood pours out of me like something from a horror movie. "Crowley?" I call, shocked by the sight of this. My mind starts racing, palms sweating and I grow dizzy with blood loss. "Crowley!" he speaks in a language I am unaware of and presses his palm, hard, into my hip. I seethe and cry out, steadying myself with his shoulder.

"Hold on, just…" it's silent again and I feel the blood slowing until it stops. There's a numbing sensation and then Crowley pulls away. His hand is coated in my blood, but his fingers wipe where my wound was. Healed skin is underneath the blood. I stare shocked at him while he wipes his hand on a handkerchief. "Give it another go?"

He works on every wound, and by the time he's done he has mastered this healing thing. He touches my cheek and I'm no longer woozy with blood loss. He sends me the first genuine smile I've seen since we first met.

"Thank you." It takes everything I have not to hug him.

His hand is at the small of my back and we press toward the door. I'm beginning to feel that fluttering in my stomach when he pushes me between him and the doorframe. He leans down, as if to kiss me, "Now," my eyes travel to his parted lips, "be a good girl and leave daddy to his work." I look back up at him for the fraction of a smirk he sends me before he turns on his heels and slams the door practically on my arm.

"Typical." I mutter.

With nowhere to be, I wander the halls again. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I glance at it.

**1 New Voicemail from Sammy.**

I breathe and listen to it, "Hey, this may be the one chance I get to call you without Dean here. You were right, Ruby and I aren't exactly saintly, and I understand – to a point – this thing with Crowley. Dean is still furious. Wherever you are, I hope you're safe. Let me know if you're in trouble. You're still family, even if you're not blood. But I should warn you, Dean is out for revenge with Crowley. He won't stop until we get answers, and I'm sure he'll try to take a swing or two. Just…damnit, just be careful. Your dad told us to keep you safe and….well, I'd hate to let him down." **Sent at-**

I hit the end button and bite my lip. _Daddy, I know you're ready to skin me alive from up there, but you've gotta understand….I mean, with mom, you said it was like magnetism. I don't exactly know what Crowley and I are, but...I've never felt it before, and I'll be damned if I give it up._

Crowley has a library. I've never been happier to see a room in my life. It's like something from Beauty and the Beast. I laugh, _who's who?_ My fingers trace across the spines of the ones at eye-level. Every book I see has a collection of dust on the shelf in front of it; all but one. Of course, I want to know what Crowley's reading. The spine is ripped, it's leather-bound, and the title is written in a fading gold color. I squint and make out the words _The Pseudomonarchia Daemonum._ I nearly drop the book. This was written before _The Lesser Key of Solomon_. Dad used to tell me stories of this book: it contains 69 demons along with the hours and rituals to conjure them. Not many people can get their hands on this, let alone an original copy. _The Lesser Key of Solomon_ is actually in my duffel, but I haven't touched it since I was 18.

I lie back in the large chair beside the high window and open the book in my lap. For hours I scan over thin pages, reading and reciting things to myself. I memorize as much as possible, counting on mnemonic devices to help me along the way. A few important pages I snap pictures of on my phone for later use. After hours and my eyes hurting, I close the book. An idea crosses my mind; something an old English teacher suggested to me; he used to love opening the pages of romance novels his students were reading to find the sex scenes. He claimed if you held the book by its spine, as if to read it, the pages would separate to where the spine was cracked most. _Wanna see what naughty pages people are reading and re-reading? Try it, you'll see._

And when I do, a name captures my attention. Sprawled at the top of the page in bold: **Gamigin. **I read quickly through the pages, translating the Latin and stumbling over a few words. _Gamigin is a great marquis ruling over thirty legions of lesser spirits. He first manifests in the form of a little horse, but can change this shape to assume the form of a man. He is reputed to be able to call upon the souls of those drowned in the sea as well as any souls confined to Cartagra (Purgatory). He can further force them to submit to interrogation, answering any questions put to them._

The symbols sprawled across the page are intricate, but obviously used for conjuring this being. I close the book quickly; shift the books around where it was so the spot looks less empty, and pad – barefoot – down the hall to Crowley's room. I can hear him calling me, but I don't stop. Tossing the book in my duffel, I sling it over my shoulder and slide my shoes on. The only thought I have is _run._ I feel a chill in the air as my phone vibrates again. Crowley's calls stop after he warns me about entering the office.

"I can hear you moving around and you best not try making your way here." Something tells me there's more that I don't know. Whatever he's doing, it's not good.

When my eyes flash over the name calling me, my heart nearly stops. **Karen.**

I make my way for the door, wondering what was guiding me to leave before. The nagging uneasiness is still there. Any call from her is not good, and someone knew that and was warning me. _Dad?_ But it can't be, because things like that don't happen. Dad's resting peacefully and wouldn't be sending me anywhere.

"What's wrong?" I whisper into the phone. The door eases behind me. My eyes scan for anyone around. It's quiet out here. A suited demon guards the gates at the exit. I pull the tub-full of salt from my pocket and run with the phone to my ear. I lift the lid and cover him in salt. Tossing the salt back in, I pull out my silver knife, cut his throat, and bolt down the driveway. He hadn't suspected a thing, and I can hear him gargling for help.

"It's Bill and Jason. You need to get here. We need you."

That's all it takes. I end the call, stuff the phone in my pocket, find the nearest parked car, break into it, and hotwire faster than I've ever done before.

_Don't you worry 'bout a thing, little one. Family's always got your back._ My words to little Jason play in my head, triggering memories that flood past my vision like a freight train again. I press harder onto the peddle and grip the wheel tight.

* * *

**A/N: You guys are freggin amazing. Thank you for each comment and subscription. I hope you liked this long update and I'm keeping my fingers crossed that this chapter flows. I'm trying to push my limits. The info on _The Pseudomonarchia Daemonum_ is not mine, and I considering you can find it on Amazon, I'm sure there are many copies out there, so that's a fictional concept I've decided to insert. Comments are extremely appreciated. I'd love to know what y'all are thinking. I love you. Have a great week.**


	21. Relatives

I scrounge up items for a hex bag on my drive and put one together at a stop for gas. Bisbee, Arizona is an old mining town. Uncle Bill and Aunt Karen moved there after the South Dakota mishap. Jason, their son – five years younger than me – was attacked by a spirit living in their house. My uncle called dad and I up, we got rid of it, but Jason refused to sleep in that house again. I was 10 at the time and he stayed with dad and I at a hotel overnight while his parents packed everything up. They were leaving by the next morning.

I'd set my navigator for the address dad had me memorize years ago. We visited once. The house they bought is towards the bottom of a mountain. It's by itself pretty much, but a store is five minutes down the road, where the rest of the townspeople reside. The house used to be a miner's and they got it cheap. Last I was in there, Bill had painted sigils on almost every window, and a devil's trap greets you when you enter. Karen fixed a pulley system above the door, a small bucket holding holy water rains down on you if she sees the slightest bit of hesitation when you enter the house. They're a bit guarded, but what hunter isn't?

Uncle Bill and dad hunted together until he met Karen and settled down. He's been on the run ever since. Dad and I were practically banned from the house years back. Jason wanted to hunt when he turned eleven. My uncle refused to let him, claiming it would only lead to more, but dad could use the help scoping out an arachnes nest, so he convinced my uncle to let us go.

_"My little petunia will keep him safe," dad claimed as he ruffled my hair._

I did, but I had nasty scars to prove it. After we returned him home, safe, albeit a few cuts and bruises, uncle Bill cussed my father out and told us to get off his property. The fact that they were calling now meant there was big trouble. My cell phone has gone off three times on my current drive, each one Crowley growling at my voicemail, frustrated that I was hidden from him.

I ease my way into the dusty town, parking beside a liquor store. If someone comes searching for this car, I don't want them to find it at my uncle's. I'll be kicked out again, for sure. So I shift my duffel on my shoulder, pocket my cell, and begin walking toward their home. I'm biting my lower lip at the thought of it; Jason had a family home to go to. He had a normal life; girlfriends, walking the stage at graduation, not having to get his diploma mailed to him. When my shoes meet the wood of the front porch, I grimace and knock.

"Aunt Karen? It's Sasha…" I press my hand over the knob and turn. "Karen?"

"Auntie Sasha!" when I hear these words, my heart stops and I can't help but smile.

"Spider monkey!?" I am completely surprised when the little blonde with pigtails dives into my arms. I hold her tight and kiss her head. My niece is the reason I stay away. She needs to be protected because she can't do it herself.

"Your brother and Maggie dropped her off before their flight. Business trip to Paris." My sister-in-law was always bustling about on business trips, but that's what big brother always wanted: normalcy. Sam and him would get along swimmingly, come to think of it.

I wiggle my nose against Cecily's, grinning at her giggles, "Must be nice to travel like that."

"Well, changing your last name has its perks, and so does running off before getting involved in this." Karen's hands knit together and she seems completely frazzled. She's right though; my brother refused to hunt, I was always the one to follow daddy. As soon as Mitch was sixteen, he had enough of being carted around. He had his best friend's parents get some papers, dad signed them, and they were his new legal guardians. Dad cried all night, I'll never forget it. But Mitch kept in touch and we knew that's what was best for him. We stuck around town often, hunting everything in a twenty mile radius. He still has dad's knife, come to think of it. Hopefully he's never had to use it.

Karen invites me to set my bag down, get a drink, and we'll talk. The whole time, Cecily is either in my arms or following me around. This little three-year-old brightens up my life. Mitch and Maggie are very blessed; their daughter is intelligent, adorable, and sweet. I used to make any excuse to go visit before I met up with the Winchesters. Mitch and I get along so long as I don't bring up dad. I'm surprised he even called me back after the accident with dad. He did console me and attempt to convince me it wasn't my fault, that it was going to happen sooner or later, but he was wrong. He still is. Dad died and I should have beaten that vamp off me. I watched them tare him apart when I was eighteen, pressed against the wall, barely breathing as a vamp held my throat. The memory still haunts me some nights. _It should have been me._

"So what happened?" I ask while sitting on the porch, watching Cecily play with a hula-hoop.

There are footsteps behind me and I reach for my knife, "Whoa there. Easy now. A little testy there, are we, hunter?"

I glare up at Jason, "Save it. Now that you're here, looking like beaten crap, you can tell me."

"Dad and I went for a hike last night; just up the mountain like we usually do. But when we get to the coal mine to rest, there was a man sitting in there." I examine the bandaged cut on his temple, the wrapped and gauzed arm and the limp he walks with.

"Have you ever seen this man before?"

"No. Never. He started walking toward us and smiling. He didn't belong because he was in a dress shirt and slacks. He greeted us and the next thing I knew, I was beat over the head and being dragged into the coal mine. Dad, too."

"Who grabbed you?" I try to think of this as if it were any other hunt. What would I do?

"He had men."

"How many?"

"I don't know. One took me, one took dad, and one followed behind. They were all…weird. Like, dressed well. Then I find out they're demons. Their eyes flash black. Dad and I are tied up when the first guy snaps his fingers. How does that happen?" he pauses when Cecily runs up to show me a gecko she grabbed. After we insist she put it down, she runs back off to play. I don't take my eyes off her when Jason adds, "He knew dad. And he knew your dad. Both of their names. He knew mine."

"What'd he say about my dad?" I grit between my teeth.

"He said, 'Bill, you know, he died bloody. Those vamps I sent tore him to shreds' and then he flicked his wrist and dad was coughing up blood."

I sip my cranberry and vodka, "Must be a higher level demon we're dealing with. How'd you get away?"

"He let me go."

I can't help the accusing look I shoot him, "Come again?"

He nods, "My dad asked him to let me go, after he started beating me. The man asked if that was his final request, dad nodded, and I was untied and sent back here."

Karen nods slowly, "Showed up this morning. God, if anything else happened to him, I'd-"

"You'd what, mom? You and dad haven't hunted in years, didn't even keep up with it, like Sasha's dad suggested. So what exactly would you do?" Jason's anger doesn't surprise me, but I avert my gaze. Family issues are between them. I was cut out for how many years, they could handle this.

When I realize it's silent once again, I ask, "Did you get a name?"

"Beleth." My mind flashes to the book lying in my duffle inside. _Beleth. He's in there._ Jason straightens when he sees my eyes register, "You know of him?"

"I've _heard_ of him." I stand and call Cecily inside, feeling a sudden chill in the air. We lock the door.

"So what do we do?" Karen asks under her breath.

I bite my lip and watch Cecily help Jason with plates for dinner, "You get food on the table, I'm going to research as much as I can and make a plan." Karen nods and breathes shakily Before she walks away I grab her wrists, "Karen, I'm going to get your husband back – alive. That's a promise."

"Mom?" Jason calls, "Cecily wants to know what all this is," he points at the red painted warding sigils on the windows.

"Oh, honey, Karen just has an awful taste in décor." Karen laughs. Jason's phone rings and he bolts up the steps. I glance curiously at my aunt but she just shakes her head and gets out pots, "His girlfriend. I swear, that boy has that phone glued to his head most days. I'm surprised she hasn't shown up here, wondering where he was last night."

Just then, a knock sounds at the door.

"You having guests?" I call over my shoulder at my aunt, giggling. Cecily follows me, clinging to my thigh. Her tiny fingers dig into my jeans as I pull the door open. When I see him, I push Cecily's face into my leg, out of precaution.

"Just me."

"How did you-"

"Left the hex bag in that car you stole. Can't find that, but you're like a blip on my radar." He huffs a silent laugh and his eyes travel down to my niece. "Oh? What have we-"

"Cec, baby, go watch TV." I know this can't last long; the red paint on the floor is a devil trap and Crowley wouldn't dare walk right into it. His eyes hold curiosity when I look at him, but soon humor. He steps toward me but I don't back down. To my horror, he walks right passed me and into the house. Cecily sits a few feet away, scratching at the floor with a toy car she's currently amusing herself with. The wheel peels the paint off and Crowley towers over me. He then bends slightly to get a closer look at Cecily, probably seeing if any of her features resemble mine. Cecily looks up, pigtails flapping behind her, and she glares at Crowley. I can't help but laugh out loud as the demon crinkles his nose is confusion and disgust.

"Sasha, who is this? Did you check him before he came in?" Karen stands at the division between the living room and kitchen.

"Cec, wanna go color something for our guest, please?" she takes off at my suggestion, tiny feet thudding up the stairs. "He's an old friend."

Jason steps in, as if to investigate, but holy water is sprayed in Crowley's face. I hear the sizzle and watch him writhe in pain.

"You brought a demon into my house!?" my aunt steps toward me and her son.

The two guys glare at each other as Crowley pulls out his handkerchief. He dabs the water from his face, not taking his eyes off of Jason when he speaks, "Who's this slimy git?"

"Crowley." I warn, "Don't." He growls but backs down. "Karen, he's a friend. If you want me to get your husband back, you're going to have to start trusting me. He would be at knife-point right now if I thought he wanted to harm any of you."

Jason pipes in, "And what about you?"

"Her? I'd like to slice her open like a science project, rip out every organ, and feed them to my hounds. Give Ed Gein her skin so he can finally finish that woman suit he started in '47, maybe use the rest of her as a decorative piece."

Jason reaches for my knife in the back of my jeans as my stomach churns from thoughts of Ed Gein's madness. "Jason, it's fine."

Karen begins, "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus-" but she stumbles and can't remember the rest. Crowley lets out a cough and then a laugh.

"I'm disappointed, honestly. Did you really think something like that would work on someone like me?" the demon flicks his wrist and a chair screeches against the floor, hitting the back of Karen's knees so she sits. "There, dear, calm down. I see anger runs in the family." He glances at Jason and glares. "Now," with one movement, my cousin and I are pressed to opposite walls by an invisible force. My back throbs where it hit, but I grit my teeth while Crowley saunters over to me, "I've come to collect." His voice feigns cheerfulness. When I say nothing, I watch his eyes grow darker, "you stole something from me, now give it back." I grind my teeth and he turns around to look into the living room, "Fine, have it your way, I'll break down _every wall in this house _until it's in my hands!" his voice crescendos through the sentence and I know just what to do.

"You'll get it back." I hum, "But first, there's something you need to know."

He spins on his heels to meet my gaze again, _Bluffing?_ His facial expression reads.

_Try me._ I glare back.

We're released from his hold and Jason falls flat on his face. I catch myself on my toes, one hand pressed into the wood floor.

"Sasha?" Karen whispers worriedly.

"Make them dinner, we'll be upstairs." My eyes linger on Crowley's momentarily and I catch a glimmer of light hitting his iris. I lead him up the stairs, to the room I'm staying in, and close the door. When I turn on my heels, he's unbuttoning his dress shirt after loosening his tie. "What're you doing?"

"Hm? That's not what we're up here for?" his voice is laced with humor when my eyes stare too long at the bit of skin showing from his neck down, down, as his chubby fingers slowly slide buttons through button holes. My breath hitches. "Business, clearly."

It's as if I'm awakened from a wet dream when my eyes shift to my duffel. "Business. Now button up." I inhale quietly and attempt to calm my hormones. _The attraction has always been there, Sash, get your head back in the game. Even though you now know exactly what he looks naked-_

"So," when I look back at him, his shirt's buttoned, but his tie is loose around his neck, "I'm asking myself: self, why would she be here? Some small house in the middle of nowhere? Then, I discover you have family, and a little one bustling about, now does that seem off to you!?"

"She's not mine, if that's what you're assuming."

"Then who-"

"-My brother."

"You have a brother?"

"The whole family changed names after…why the hell should I tell you? One wrong step and my whole family's wiped out. It's bad enough you know we're here." I pause, smirking inwardly. "But while you are, you can help me."

"Save your…uncle, correct? Why, pray tell, would this even interest me? Better yet," he steps dangerously close, "Why would you think you could steal from me and I wouldn't notice?" I shift slightly, "It's here." His eyes glance around, "Bedroom. Personal. Likely it'd be under the bed, but this isn't your own bedroom, is it? No, that was burned down long ago." He gazes in the closet, "must we play this game?"

"Help me, and you'll get your precious book back."

"That easy?"

"I've memorized it already," I smirk.

His eyes widen, "Well, just full of surprises, are we?"

"But, oh, wait, there's more. The thing that took my uncle is a demon; powerful one at that. Oh, the juicy deats I've been informed of." It's my turn to prowl around him, "Big Daddy Crossroads no longer. Only a few more spots to king, huh?" his aura screams shock, but his body shows none of it, "Beleth. Know him?"

"Of course," he spits, "every demon knows him."

"He's here. Up in that mountain. And we're gonna get him."

"_We_?"

"Yes. Because I need my uncle, and you need Beleth, dead."

"Or, I take the book, scrounge up all ways to kill Beleth myself, and be on my merry way."

"You won't find it." I shrug, "Tear this room apart, but it's nowhere. You think I'm that reckless?" I pause and smirk again, "Gamigin, know all about it."

"So you can pronounce a name, cookie for you."

"Oh, I know much more than that. Only question is: why? Do you want him at your disposal or do you want something specific? Perhaps…Purgatory?"

"So you decode and comprehend Latin? I'm impressed. Google Translate do your bidding?"

I laugh wholeheartedly, "Sadly, too many torturous years of the language in school, thanks." I breathe, "Isn't Purgatory a little farfetched for you?"

"So were angels, and yet, you were lying beneath one just a few months back." I bite my tongue, more frustrated by his comment than the fact that he hadn't given me an explanation, "Ballsy cousin you've got." I tense, "Shame, really." There's a sudden thud and then Jason's screaming in pain downstairs.

"Sasha, get down here! Jason's been-"

"-Shot." Crowley finishes in my ear, "Just like you a few weeks back. He'll survive. You did." Karen screams again, Cec running into the room now, her ears covered and tear-stained cheeks. "Best go and fix him." I want to run down and have Crowley keep Cecily, but I don't trust him with her in the slightest. After picking her up, I kiss her temple and bob her on my hip, her head finding that perfect spot on my shoulder.

"You're coming with me." My voice comes out strong, venom dripping from each word.

"Ah, so it is in this room." I know he's watching my expression, but my pupils deceive me and within a minute, he laughs. "Thought so."

"Fix him. Now." I dig through my bag with my other hand, keeping my eyes on him. He smirks and snaps a finger, Karen's cries dying down and Jason coughing.

"Only two more wishes." Crowley jokes. I hold the cold metal in my hand, determined to get Cecily out of the room for a moment.

I kneel down and Cecily's feet plant on the floorboards, "Hey babygirl, did you finish your drawings?" I was extremely glad she didn't have to see Jason bleeding. She was sheltered as much as possible from all this. If that's how my brother wanted it, who was I to intervene? She nods, "Well," I swipe her hair from her wet cheeks, "bring 'em here, I wanna see." She bolts out of the room and down the hall. I only have a few moments. "Crowl, sit. I'll grab the book." He seems pleased and takes a seat on the chair beside him, arms resting on the armrests. I walk toward him, reaching for the desk, but quickly unclasp the cuffs and wrap the metal chain around an armrest while closing each wrist in the irons. He's shackled to the chair.

"Really, Sash?" he snaps his fingers, frustrated. Nothing happens. I smirk and he tries again. "Wha-"

When I angle the handcuffs, he grunts, "Devil's trap, carved it in myself. No smoking out, no calling minions." I pause and step back toward the door to divert Cecily, "Just wanted to make sure they work before we go after Beleth."

"Well, they work. Let. Me. Out."

"Nope." I smile at Cecily as she jogs toward me, arms outstretched. "What's this?" I can feel Crowley's attention on me.

"Mr. Crowley, Auntie Sasha, and me!" she points to poorly drawn people; Crowley looks hilarious as a stick figure with a suit and beard, but I gleam at her.

"It's lovely, baby girl!" When I pick her up, I blow raspberries on her stomach and she giggles, completely forgetting the screaming earlier, just as I'd hoped. "Now, isn't it a liiiiittle passed your bedtime?"

"Nooooo."

I nod, "Karen?"

"Yeah?" she calls, her voice muffled.

"You ready for story time and then bed with little spider monkey up here?" I shift her on my hip.

"Of course!" this is one of the few normal things we do. Karen puts her to bed, reading her stories from fairytale books; princesses and kings, knights and kisses, happy endings are never far away, and the monsters don't exist. I set Cecily down and peck her cheek.

"Pajamas, brush your teeth, then downstairs. Got it? Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars." She gives me butterfly kisses, something daddy and I used to share. "We'll be here when you wake up, then Mr. Crowley and I are going hiking."

"Joy…" I hear Crowley groan from the bedroom.

"Goodnight, Mr. Crowley!" she peaks in the room. He waves and makes the chains clatter, "Why are you all chained up?"

"Because your Auntie's a bitc-"

I intervene, "-bit playful! We're playing cops and robbers. He's the bad guy." I straighten and crack my back, "Now what time is it?"

"Pajama time!" she sings, "Doo, doo do do, uhh!" her bare feet pad across the hardwood and I step inside my temporary room, closing the door once again.

"Now that you're all tied up, I'm going to look into our friend a bit more." I pull the book from the desk beside his arm. "Don't worry, lovebug, I'll share." And I set myself in his lap, opening the book to the page I'd bookmarked on Beleth. He glances over my shoulder so I turn my head to press my lips into his neck. A deep groan escapes his mouth. I bite into his skin like I'd wanted to the night he chained me up. My fingers find his strong shoulders and I bury my nails under the fabric of his clothes, into his skin.

"If this is what we're leading to, cut the crap."

I hum, "Not so fun, is it?"

I return to the book, feeling him pressed into my thigh, but I ignore it and re-read the pages I'd already scanned, hoping to find something I missed. Crowley's shifting in his seat, yanking his arms up in an attempt to break the armrests. Through my annoyance, I set the book back on the desk. Standing on confident legs, I stride over to the duffle, bend at the waist, and dig until I grab clean panties and black shorts. The chains are still jingling, so I make my way to the wardrobe and open the left door which swings out level enough to conceal my body from Crowley's gaze while I change. I can feel him watching me though, the chains no longer a priority. I hear movement and peak to see him leaning in hopes to view me. I slam the wardrobe door, now changed, and toss my old clothes in the duffel. Flicking my hair behind my ear, I stride back over to him. These shorts should be considered boy short underwear for how little they conceal. His eyes are glassy when they meet mine. Without hesitation, I straddle him in the chair. The cuffs vocalize their movement again when the demon attempts to grab my hips. If sex was a way to play him, damn it, I was going to tease him like crazy.

"Crowl," I hum into his ear while nipping at it, "if you're a good boy," I use a soft, breathy, porn-star voice and rub myself against his chubby, feeling a jolt of need. "I'll let you out. Deal?"

"M'usually I seal those with a kiss." His neck is turned and as I pull back, there's that magnetism again. This time, I let him kiss me. I press myself against him like he's the only thing keeping me grounded. I claw into his back and try to express my desire for him, but pull away breathlessly. He's huffing too and I know I shouldn't be doing this. I know we have a job to do, and Cecily is downstairs, but damn it I need him.

This thought startles me to my feet and I glance anywhere but at him. When the door is thrown open, I know it's Jason. Instantly, I wipe my mouth, and see how swollen Crowley's lips are. Do mine look the same? My cheeks are reddened, I know that, but will Jason say anything? Would he even consider that his cousin is stupid enough to let a demon become this intimate with her?

Before I can think anything else, Jason speaks, "it was you, wasn't it?" His side isn't taped up or anything, so Crowley must have healed him too. His powers really are growing, considering last time his hand was pressed into my wound for it to work. "How did you shoot me?" Crowley scoffs a chuckle once and looks away. "Cousin, what the fuck is this? Some kind of BDSM thing!? Sick."

Crowley chuckles, but I can see his thoughts wander with the dulling of his eyes, "Jason, please, we're working here." I point to the book in hopes that it will convince him.

"Keep your dirty paws off of my relative." Jason glares right at the demon who bites his lip while staring at the floor.

"And if I don't?"

My cousin clearly didn't expect this answer, because he takes a step back, "I'll kill you, nice and slow."

"Believe me, when these cuffs come off, you'll be a gooey pile of flesh on the floor before you start your next sentence, you twat."

"Fuck you."

"If that's your thing, Sash and I could arrange something. Incest is best, put your cousin to the test."

"Ok, enough, both of you! Jason, you said Beleth sent you back down here, right?"

Crowley directs his attention at me, "If that's the case, you're a warning." Jason closes his mouth and listens, "Beleth wouldn't let you go without a plan. If you're vertical, it's because he _wants_ you to be."

"And my dad?" Jason's voice is softer than I'd ever heard it before.

"S'debatable." He pauses, "but he must know the link you have to Sasha, did he…mention anythin'?"

I nod, "He talked about the night my…mentioned my dad." At my near-Freudian slip, Crowley glances curiously. I've never mentioned my dad to him; touchy subject. Demons – no matter who they are – prey on grief and loss. Besides, he probably already knows the whole story.

"So since he knows Sasha's dad, and likely Sasha, what does that mean? What does he want?" Jason's fearful voice breaks through the silence.

Crowley simply says, "Sash, we need to talk." I push my cousin out of the room, close the door, and wait until I hear him descending the stairs before turning back to the demon. "Cuffs, now." I pull the key from out of my bra and start toward him. When I bend down to uncuff him, I feel his facial scruff brush against my chest, his lips pressing into my now chill-bumped skin. When I uncuff him, I step back and shoot him a death glare. "That's better." He rubs at his wrists. I place the keys beside the cuffs on the desk.

"This has something to do with you, doesn't it? Beleth knows that we're…well, whatever we are. He wants to use me as leverage like every other demon, doesn't he?"

"Well, looks and brains. Good for you." When he snaps, a bottle and glass appear on the desk. He pours some and swirls it about.

"Whatever it is, we need to decide how we're gonna manage it. I need to get my uncle back before he's killed." The thought of losing another family member enrages me. Crowley senses this because he turns mid-sip, eyebrows raised. "So a plan. Any ideas what kills him?"

"Well, love, he's a higher-level demon. Holy water likely won't work, salt lines will keep him at bay, but I'm sensing you want to torture the bastard." When I don't reply, he drinks more, "I've a few tricks up my sleeve."

"Ok, what?"

He snaps and a blank scroll rests in his hand, "Contract. Make a deal with him before you stroll in there, guns blazing like some tiny Lara Croft."

"A deal?"

"Yes. He'll leave your uncle behind, cut right to the chase with me. Leave you…"

"_Leave _me!? How? I'll be right behind you."

"Exactly." At this I raised my eyebrow, "Hex bag, until you're ready to make your entrance. Strike up a fake deal about how I'll back down and not send my go-to guys to hunt him if he makes me second in command. And then…" he raises his glass to me.

"-I stride in there, beat the fuck out of him, exorcise him if we can lure him into a devil's trap I'll paint on the entrance of the cave." After I grab some cash from my bag, I pocket it and start toward the door, "I'll stock up on everything. You start on the contract." I close the door quietly and make my way down the stairs and toward Jason who is nursing a glass of wine. "Where's your mom?" I'm sliding my feet into my shoes.

He stands as if he's about to receive orders, "Just put Cecily to bed. She's taking a shower."

"Well, do you have a car I can borrow?" I'm staring out the window into the blackness.

He chuckles and when I turn, he hands me keys, "Is the demon still up there?" I send him a warning glare to drop it. I already know where this conversation is going and if Crowley had the slightest inkling to kill my family, he would have done it by now. Thankfully Jason drops the subject and nods toward the door, "I think you'll be surprised."

I leave. The keys feel familiar in my hand, but I squint my way to Karen's black Toyota Camry. There's no remote lock, so I attempt to fit the key in to no avail. I cuss and glance around; it's too time-consuming to play these games. I can make out a dark outline of a truck, so I start toward it but stop and hold my breath. A dark blue '67 Chevy Fleetside sits parked behind the house. There was no way I could have seen it the way I came in. My legs don't carry me fast enough to the door. I unlock it, slide in, slam the door, and feel a sense of completeness. Despite everything I've been through these past few years, this has made it all worth it.

The photograph dad kept is still taped to the dashboard: the family smiling bright. I have no memory of this photo being taken, but, oh God, dad loved to talk about it. He'd go on about the family taking their first trip to Niagara Falls. When I first started hunting he'd call them trips, but this one was different. He had quit hunting until mom died. This picture is the first and last we took on a vacation.

An old hoodie of his lies on the passenger seat. I remember cuddling up with it on that last hunt, freezing from the cold night and the fear. Bobby drove this truck back after we gave my dad a hunter's funeral. I haven't been in here since that night. I figured Bobby dumped the car on his lot, but then again Uncle Bill has always been a car fanatic, and he adored this truck.

When the engine roars to life, I smile through my tears. It's as if dad's with me again, teaching me to drive in this big boat of an automobile. His hand presses into mine as I shift gears and ease out onto the road. My thumb hits the radio instantly, remembering how Bobby was close to changing the channel on the drive to his place. I'd forced him not to; it was one of the few things dad would have control over and with him gone, I didn't want a soul to step into his shoes. My eyes fill with tears when the country station blares. Here I am, grown up and on my own, hunting down something that wants to hurt my family. I've got a fighter's heart like my father and my mother's eyes and I'll be damned if I lose another family member from some supernatural scum.

"So," I jump when Crowley appears beside me. I'm making a left onto the main road and almost at the hardware. "Care to tell about daddy?" I don't answer, "His truck, m'I right?" More silence, "Good talk." And he's gone.

I breathe a breath I didn't know I held and pull into the hardware store. After parking, shutting the truck off, and locking it, I hurry inside. I'm feeling exhausted by now and getting this done quickly would be a plus. As soon as I enter, a man exiting through the wrong door bumps into me. I stagger back and cuss, but he takes a hold of my wrist with his cold hands and steadies me. My eyes shift to his wrinkled fingers and I hold back a gag, focusing on his ring until I'm clearheaded enough to pull away. Older people always creep me out.

"Sorry, ma'am." He tips his head then is off.

After brushing the creepy feeling from my wrist, I shop for fifteen minutes and bust ass out of there. I set the bag full of supplies on the seat beside me and drive back speedily. My eyelids feel heavy and yawns escape me every few minutes. Too much commotion today…

"Better now?" Crowley doesn't even look up when I enter. Jason was sleeping on the couch when I set the keys back on the counter downstairs.

"Not yet." I mumble when I start a tub for myself. Soaking for a good hour sounds extremely relaxing. I yawn while Crowley pokes through the bags, sighing, "What?"

"Iron rod, matches, spray paint, and knives?" I can sense he's upset by his tone of voice so I stride over to my bag and pull out a bottle. "Wassat?"

"Holy oil, from my good friend Castiel." I silently thank the angel for letting me sneak some from Sam and Dean weeks ago. I knew it would come in handy and I intend to hurt Beleth as excruciatingly as possible. I leave Crowley to his writing and close the attached bathroom door.

I must have dozed off in the tub because Crowley wakes me up, "Shouldn't you rest somewhere more…comfortable?" I nod and rinse the soapy water off of myself while the water drains, "Let you sleep for a good hour, but your skin's getting all waterlogged. Come, come." He urges me out of the water and I wrap the towel around myself. He snaps and I'm in what looks to be one of his shirts and a pair of my panties. "Now," he's pushing me toward his scroll and asking me about wordings along with how Castiel and I became so close he'd hand over holy oil. He mentions my father's truck and my head spins.

"Crowley," he pauses in his ramblings, "too much. This is too much. I need sleep." I brush my hair with my fingers.

He's angry. His jaw is clenching and he turns back to his work, "Sleep."

I bite my tongue and slide under the covers, pushing away the thought of how good his shirt smells. I cover my face with the sheets and shield my eyes from the light in the room.


	22. You Asked For It

I awaken to light peeking through blind slats and pressing of pen to paper. Crowley is still in that chair, eyes focused on the scroll which waterfalls onto the floor. Every so often he stops and presses his pen to his lips.

"Just going to sit there and ogle?"

My eyelids are still heavy but I climb out of bed and stumble towards him, holding his shoulder to keep me upright. "It's not done yet?" the clock on the windowsill reads 8:49, but I feel like I've slept ten minutes. My fingers play absentmindedly with the ends of his hair. He pulls away.

"Yes. Any mistakes and it'll be a deterrent. I need to hold him long enough for you to paint that symbol. I'll snap the cuffs on him and-"

"Or I could shoot him." Crowley looks at me like I'm in a drunken stupor, "dad's journal mentioned carving devil traps into bullets. Seemed far-fetched, but then again so did those cuffs. Let's do both; to be safe."

While he finishes, I get ready. My dark boots are pulled over black skinnies and I throw a black button down short sleeved top on. I need to be able to hide in the shadows of the cave if necessary. Crowley warned me. When I finish, Crowley is pocketing the scroll, the book I stole from him is long gone. He takes one look at me and scoffs.

"We're not hiking, correct? I'd much rather zap us up there."

"Not really one for exercise, are ya, Crowl?" I push passed him and to my bag. Spray paint, holy oil, matches, a few guns, the cuffs, and a silver knife lie inside. The rest, I leave here. I pocket a hexbag then slip one into Crowley's coat. "Just in case." He stops himself from removing it, "I'm gonna check on Jason." I mutter after slinging the bag across me. There aren't footsteps behind me, so I'm sure Crowley will show up outside. Jason greets me when I enter the kitchen. Karen is giving Cecily a bath; I can tell by the splashing and giggling heard from down the hall, "Jason, you're not coming with us."

"The hell I'm not!" he follows me out of the house. "That's my dad up there. If anything happens to him-"

I stop at the top of the porch steps, Crowley at the bottom, "You listen to me: if you so much as follow us one foot, I'm putting a bullet hole in your thigh. Got me?" I grit my teeth, "I'll get your dad back, but I'll be _damned_ if you get in the way."

"Oh, 'get in the way', like I did last time with the arachnes? If I recall, I did a damn good job shooting that one charging at your dad."

"-And then getting us cut up and hiding in the corner while your _family_ almost bled to death? Yeah, thanks for that."

"Well, your dad coulda guarded my ass from the one drooling above me."

"My dad _always_ did the best he could. He got both of us out of there in one piece, so shut your fucking mouth." I was screaming by now, furious with my cousin. He has no right to accuse my dad of being weak or preoccupied. My father protected the both of us and had some nasty gashes down his back from that night. They healed jaggedly; it was the first time I'd ever done stitches. Hearing your dad screaming in pain because your hands are shaking so terribly, worried about him bleeding out in front of you because your fucknut of a cousin wanted to tag along and 'help' us? That's when you grow up. That's when you realize how quick this could all be over. One wrong move. One. And my dad would be gone…was gone…is; is gone. There is one step I wish I could take back the most. Maybe I'd still have my father if I hadn't entered that master bedroom to behead the elder vampire in the nest. One wrong step.

"Actually there's something else he could be doing." Crowley speaks slowly, interrupting my thoughts. We both turn our attention to him, "Beleth is powerful, hm? But you overlooked one thing, princess." I step toward him, "He was _conjured_, get it?" I squint and he sighs, "He's not like most demons; you know the whole bit: human soul carved into something…well, demonic." He laughs, "Someone called upon him. So it reads: Beleth will obey and do all that he is commanded, but the conjurer must be respectful and do homage unto Beleth due to his rank, and hold a silver ring in the middle finger of the left hand_._"

"So the conjurer commands him, but if Beleth wants something…" Jason thinks aloud.

My mind is in overdrive, "You said that the conjurer wears a silver ring?" Crowley nods, "Would he be here with him, then? Because last night at the hardware, this man practically shouldered me into oblivion. Seemed like he was on a mission. He had a silver ring on his middle finger."

Crowley shifts his hands into his pockets, "It's been rumored Beleth's conjurer wanted a normal life. Found himself a mate, didn't want Beleth's constant watch and favors. So, Beleth roasted himself the man's meaty wife." Jason's eyes shift to me, but I don't acknowledge him, "The man doesn't ask for anything. He just sits and waits. Beleth hasn't surfaced to earth in a few decades."

"So why is he here now? And why target us?" Crowley is suddenly on edge and his eyes shift upward and to the left. He meets my sight and I instantly understand; Beleth is watching. One quick glance and I see a black figure standing high in the hills. I'm pushing Jason inside quickly; Crowley already popped himself in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. I lock the door. "What? What are you doing?"

I hand him a hexbag, "Take this. Put it in your pocket, don't lose it. It'll hide you from all demons, may come in handy. Especially since we need you to go find that old man."

"What!?"

"Crowley and I will hold Beleth off while you find his conjurer, and you're going to kill him."

"The hell I am!"

"Do you want your father back, or not?" Crowley steps forward, speaking calmly. "Because if this doesn't happen, if your cousin and I fail…well, you'll be losing more than a bullet."

I hand him a .45 from the duffel, "Without that direct link to his conjurer,"

"It'll weaken him." Crowley finishes.

Jason takes a minute, "How do I know who he is?"

I describe as much as I can remember, but assure him the man got into some red pickup and wore a silver ring on his middle finger. Crowley had said this man would be a traveler; there's no way he would own property here, considering Beleth would likely torch the place. So he's staying in the motel, and there are only two in town. He needs his car to take him wherever Beleth asks, and especially to get away after the deaths of my family; which won't happen on my watch. I inform Jason all of this, and tell him he needs to be quick and sure. Interrogate him if he must. I wish I could go with him, but Crowley needs me and so does my uncle.

After a bit more preparation, Jason is sneaking out the back door with us so his mother won't hear. I slide out the gun box in the back of daddy's truck and unlock it with the key on the ring. Jason has only seen this once, and at the time he was barely tall enough to peak in. I let him take pick of daddy's guns, only to make him realize I'm invested in this fight too. Crowley's hand sneaks in and withdraws dad's favorite hunting knife.

"You know what this is, right?"

"Yeah, dad's favorite: now give it back." His hand traces over the inscription on the blade. That's when I realize; it looks similar to Ruby's knife. "Crowley, what-"

"Forged long ago, by the Kurdish." He pauses and looks at me, "you realize how helpful this could become tonight?"

"What's up with the blade?" Jason tries to snatch it but Crowley tosses it to me and slaps my cousin's wrist.

"It kills demons." I'm in awe. Dad had this the entire time? We never hunted many demons, actually. Believe it or not, before a few years ago, demons were a rare occurrence.

With this blade and my plan, the holy oil will only be a hindrance. I leave it in the lock box and shove a handcuff into my pocket, letting the other cuff dangle. A mix of these things and I'll be unstoppable.

Daddy's gun is tucked in the back of Jason's jeans. I tell him not to even get in the truck until I walk back here. Crowley and I enter the back door, leaving Jason. We make our way out the front, Beleth probably watching again.

"Passed the city limits, make a right onto the interstate." Crowley speaks smoothly. He turns on his heels, "Big plan is to have me, you're just leverage."

"I'm not leaving you." I speak through gritted teeth.

He leans down and kisses me softly. I'm taken aback but eagerly press forward and run my fingers through his hair. The kiss breaks before I'd like it to and I get a rush of loss.

"Please," this is the first time I've heard him speak in such a way, "go."

I slowly back away then bust into a run toward the back of the house, where Jason is; away from the watchful eye of Beleth. When I make it to the back, I nod at Jason who gets in the truck, slams the door, and starts it. He pulls out within seconds, speeding off as if his life depended on it; and it just might. I pull out my knife and gun, carving a devil trap into a bullet. Dad's knife is tucked in my belt loop. I'd rather die than lose it.

"Hello." I jump instantly, raising my silver knife higher, "please, don't tempt me."

"Who-"

"Grayson. I work for Crowley."

"I thought-"

"Crowley will meet you there. He's already gone, to buy you some time." By now, I'm loading the gun with my recently-carved bullet. "I've been asked to give you a ride, and protection." He grabs my arm when I put the knife in my bag and the gun in the back of my jeans. Within a blink, I'm at the top of the mountain, gazing at the rocks. It's just the two of us. My hands dig for the spray paint and I begin working on the devil's trap at the entrance. Grayson doesn't watch me long, his gaze constantly shifts around.

"So, why are you following his orders and not killing me?" my hands work as quickly as they can. I've set the bag down.

"He's given me a great position. Imagine what powers I'll possess when he becomes king."

It isn't out of the goodness of his heart, but the ignorance of his mind. Does he really think Crowley will grant him any power if this whole king business is true?

"Are you coming, or what?" I mutter over my shoulder when I stand and bag the spray paint. The rest of my supplies are useless. This bullet, the trap, the cuffs, and my knife are all I can carry. Who knows if this will even work? Hopefully Jason finds the room for Beleth's conjurer and shoots him with daddy's silenced pistol.

"I'll stay here, miss." Though his words are pretty, his glare is not.

My fingers play with the hilt of dad's blade as I make my way through the dark. One yelp is all it takes to get me running. When I enter the large open area, I see Crowley – bloody – on the floor. A burly man stands in the middle of the area, pacing slightly. He reminds me of a tiger I'd seen at the zoo once. Menace drips from his smile.

"Sasha, how good of you to join us" before I can reach for my gun, I'm pressed to the wall. I gasp when I see my uncle, beaten and bruised. His blood rests in a puddle beneath him, much like Crowley's. I can see the scroll Crowley slaved over; torn and frayed. "Your demon here tried to fool me into thinking you left. Good plan. Almost had me for a minute."

Crowley coughs up blood, his face inches from the ground, on all fours. My neck feels like it's being pressed into by invisible, freezing hands. It's hard to breathe.

"Sasha. Is that you?" my uncle Bill calls in a gasp. I'm reminded of how he sounded that night we saved his son; broken and aching.

I manage to speak, "I'm gonna get you safe, just hold-" I'm cut short when Beleth slaps my face then delivers an uppercut. I bite my tongue and wince, but spit the blood out onto his face. His ice blue eyes are piercing.

"You vile woman." He wipes it off. "Now, I've mentioned a deal with dear Crowley here. He stops trying to take my position, and I let him live." He chuckles, "But first, I've stripped him of his powers. Don't worry, nothing long-term; yet. Just enough to make him _feel _human. Let's just hope, for his sake, he bleeds out before I get my hands on him again. You, on the other hand…you're tough to crack. Did you really come here for family, or to protect your demon? Hm?" I don't answer, "Tell you what," I feel cuts being made into my stomach by some force he's controlling. I can't move and my fingertips feel like they're on fire. "If you agree to my little deal, I'll let dear old uncle walk." My throat feels like it's being ripped apart, and Crowley is knocked onto his side by the same force. From the corner of my eye I can see him struggling and pulsing blood. His cries drain me. A blade I recognize as my uncle's is thrown into my shoulder. I cry out in pain, "are you ready to hear me out?"

"Fuck you." I groan, eyes closing as I push away the pain. But more comes. Beleth presses invisible hands to my neck, bruising me. My fingers and toes tingle, vision fades after a moment. I feel my heart thudding when he raises a closed fist. My blood pumps and spurts out of my mouth. I'm chocking, crying, and gasping as Crowley is being cut open and beaten. This force could destroy the both of us if this keeps up.

"Now, I'll let big uncle Billy go. Would you like that?" he digs his finger into my knife wound after removing the blade. I scream, "But, you must bed me…and Crowley must watch." He shifts his eyes to Crowley whose blood coats his suit. "And during, I get to cut you open." He speaks cheerfully now, "Do we have a deal?"

As soon as the pain and screaming stops, I hear myself answer before considering anything, "Yes." I scream, "Anything." Blood loss has gotten to me and I feel weak and exhausted. My head aches from being beaten against the wall so many times. He removes the force from me, and I fall to my knees. I crawl to my uncle, untie and unblindfold him. It's a struggle to move even my arms, but I do it. Beleth is busy with something else. In my struggling, I dropped the knife.

"Well then," he holds a hand up and I'm frozen in place, "What damage this could do." my dad's blade cuts into Crowley's exposed skin from his torn suit. I watch lines of glowing orange play at the cutting flesh. Beleth tears at the wounds with his fingers, blood pumping thoroughly. "You can't even fight anymore." he laughs.

Crowley's eyes lazily meet his; they're glazed over and the way his eyebrows are furrowed assures me Beleth is right; he can't fight anymore. I've been to that stage of blood loss and when you're there, it feels like you'll never come out of it. I imagine Crowley's pain is more intense, considering he's still a demon, but Beleth claims to have stripped him of power temporarily. Crowley can't heal.

"My uncle." I speak sternly.

"Ah, yes. Ready so soon? Well, Bill, it was wonderful meeting you. Sadly you won't join your brother, yet. But Sasha, you'll get to see dear old dad soon, and tell him how you let your cousin steal his truck, lost his knife, and bedded a demon. Well, soon two demons. Aren't we the lucky one? Daddy dearest will be so proud!" He snaps his fingers and my uncle disappears from my side. "Ready when you are, my sweet." He goes back to carving Cowley who can barely keep his eyes open. The dark circles are so unlike him and the blood mixing with the sweat makes my stomach churn. Some wounds, I can see bone.

"Wait. I won't do a thing until I see he's safe." I speak strong even though my body is weak.

Beleth turns swiftly, "What makes you so sure I won't just take you now?" he leaves Crowley alone momentarily; just what I'd hoped for. My demon wheezes as if to speak, but blood spurts out from his mouth and he's blinking hard. Beleth stands before me, dragging me to my feet. He pulls at the buttons on my top until I backhand him. I find strength to steady myself and ease into a fighting stance. My vision is blurry, but I glare. "Fighter, huh? That's why Crowley gets such a kick out of you." Dad's knife is swung toward me, but I dodge. The second and third time, I'm not so lucky. My thigh aches from the simple cuts he made, the fabric slashed and baring skin, holding on in the back only. Thigh muscles twitch, but I won't give up that easily. I block another cut and knee him in the balls. He drops the blade. "Fine." and he drags me toward the opening of the cave, kicking Crowley's rib when we pass. I stumble forward, into the light. My uncle rests on the front porch, a bloodied mess, but my aunt opens the door and brings out her first aid kit. She'd used it on dad and I the first time we took Jason hunting. Sadly, Beleth does not follow me outside. He steps back, away from the devil's trap I'd painted. "Very clever girl, indeed." I can see his anger peaking and just as I pull the gun from my jeans, he snaps and I hear Crowley yell. Beside myself, I shoot. The bullet goes directly into his chest and he laughs. The devil's trap didn't work as I'd expected, but I settled for a moment's distraction. "What kind of…" but he's bound to the body he's possessing and he can barely move due to the devil's trap in the bullet. With what little strength I have, I grab him and slap the cuffs on his wrist. A light flashes from his eyes, it's white and blinding. "Your cousin…" he mutters afterward.

"-Didn't steal daddy's car." I chuckle through the pain. "He went to find your keeper." Crowley was right: after the conjurer is dead, a bright light will pierce through the eyes of the conjured. He's weakened now. I silently thank my cousin and pull Beleth inside the cave, despite his struggling. I throw him to the ground and walk over to my dad's knife, placing it in my belt loop. "Crowley, you good?" With no answer, I look up. His eyes are closed and from where I stand, I can't tell if he's moving in the slightest. Is his vessel's chest raising and falling? I bust ass over to him, ignoring the stinging from my wounds. My shoulder still gushes, but now is not the time to focus on that. I take his face in my hands and shake him slightly. Before I shot Beleth, Crowley had groaned. A deep purple bruise has formed on his cheekbone from a punch I didn't witness. Other wounds adorn his body and I'm fearful what else happened here. His eyes flutter open when he grips my wrist. His breathing is jagged as I lean him against the cave wall and my fingers touch a bullet wound on his bicep, "Stay here. I'm gonna get you safe." I whisper after tearing the already frayed leg of my jeans. My skin in revealed and I watch Crowley's eyes trace over it, but I lean toward him and use my pant leg as a tourniquet around his arm. His pupils shift between mine but I lower my eyes to the blood on his lip, dripping onto my hands. Anger fills me at the knowledge that Beleth could turn this strong demon into a bloody, shaking mess.

"Young love." Beleth comments behind me. I stand at full height, and with a slow movement I grasp my dad's blade firmly. "Oh, don't let me ruin the moment."

"You sent those vamps after my father." I take four steps toward him, "We cleared out that entire nest. I went after the elder, but he was it."

"Heard you two were in town. Your daddy cut me with that blade years ago. Scratched me something good." He nods down toward his forearm. From his middle knuckle to where his arm bends, a scar rests. "At the time, he'd found out a demon was starting trouble. This was well before he settled down with your pretty little mama. He hunted me for days, killed my lover." I twist the hilt of the blade in my palms, "So I carved him up."

One quick movement and he's gasping for air, my boot print on his throat. "How courageous of you, sending vampires to avenge your harlot's death." I crouch down when he stops gasping. When I mimic the lines he made on Crowley with the blade, he cries out. The sound of him screaming releases something in me.

_A simpler blade is in between my fingers. The ground is gravel, but the walls are red. Heat licks at my skin and my tunnel vision shows me a man, tied up, bloody and jaw broken. He begs for me to stop, but I take four steps forward and gouge the blade into his throat._

This blurred vision startles me and I gasp. Beleth remains before me, winded and sweaty. What I'd just seen still plagues the corners of my eyes.

"Look like you've seen a ghost." Beleth chortles, "What is going on in that head of yours?"

Without speaking, I raise the blade once more and dig it in deeper, watching the blood seep from his vessel, the tearing of the flesh beneath the silver. It chills me but I stare into his eyes while slicing.

"This is for my dad, you son of a bitch!" my voice crescendos and I punctuate my thought with the blade in his eye. Orange flashes like lightening. I watch him collapse to the floor; dead. My hands are moving faster than my mind; wiping the knife on his shirt, slipping it in my belt loop, pulling the keys from my bra and unlocking the cuffs then locking them around another belt loop. Instantly, I stand and forget the lightheadedness and aching wounds just to reach Crowley. "Come on, you big lug." His arm slips around my shoulder as I use my strength to pull him up. "You're gonna need to _try_ to walk. Crowl, I'm not strong enough for this." He complies wordlessly. I shoulder him out of the cave.

"Bullocks." Crowley mutters darkly after his snapping results in nothing. He tries again to no avail. Our height difference makes this even more difficult.

"Grayson! Get your ass here now!" I scream.

"No-" before Crowley can finish, Grayson appears with my duffel.

"Get us back, now." I can tell by his expression, he didn't expect to see us so bloody. He presses his hands to our shoulders, sending us down by the house.

"That's all I can-" he begins. My bag is dropped on my wounded shoulder.

"GO!" Crowley growls.

"Jason!" my voice echoes. The door flies open. A frightened Jason takes Crowley's other arm. We both shoulder him up the porch steps, passed the still-chipped devil's trap, and into a kitchen chair. "Keep Cecily out." I gasp.

"But-"

"Out." I mutter. Karen is likely taking care of my uncle's wounds. Dinner has been recently cooked; soup from the smell of it. Uncle Bill hasn't eaten in days. Pushing past my thoughts, I run for the first aid kit under the sink. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and a bottle of whiskey from the counter then put them down beside where I kneel. "You're gonna need to stay awake." I speak to Crowley. "Come on," my left hand presses to his cheek and my right opens the kit.

"Mmm, Sash," Crowley breathes. I remove the shitty tourniquet, his jacket, loosen the tie and toss it, begin unbuttoning the dress shirt. I hear the kitchen doors closing and locking; Jason turning the radio on for little Cecily. Crowley sits shirtless before me. "Thisathingforyou?" his speech is slurred and quick.

He needs to stay awake, despite his need for sleep currently. "Sweetie, I'm gonna need you to keep talking to me, okay?" I raise his arm with a bullet hole in it and place his hand on my shoulder.

"_Sweetie_?" he mutters, eyebrows furrowed. I grab the tweezers and begin working on getting the bullet out. It's a regular bullet, no carvings on it. "Fuck!" Crowley grunts, grabbing the whiskey with his free hand. The tweezers itch against the muscle in his arm. The wetness, blood, and raw flesh would make me stomach churn years ago. Now, I'm only focused on getting him sewn up before he falls asleep on me. He takes a swig of alcohol and coughs, looking at the label. Clearly it's not his brand. I finally get the legs around the bullet, but he pulls away in pain.

"Crowley!" I scold.

"Cut me a break." He puts the bottle down, "Haven't felt human in some time."

"Drink water, not booze. All that blood loss, you need to stay hydrated. You should be on the second bottle by the time I'm done with this." Without moving my gaze from the hole, I grab the water and thrust it toward his chest.

"Bloody woman…" but I can see him lift the open bottle to his lips.

The tweezers are digging back in his wound, picking until they grab the bullet. I pull and feel Crowley's fingers pierce into my shoulder. Seething, I feel the skin pulling around my knife wound. The bullet rolls on the table next to the tweezers, the noise sounding loud in my ears. Pressing lightly on the tissue on either side of the wound, I urge the blood to come out then wipe it with a paper towel. I clean out the gouge with the alcohol, hearing Crowley cuss in another language.

"Almost done.". By the time I'm done with cleaning most of his wounds – the big ones at least – I huff over, exhausted. Keeping Crowley awake was harder than I'd expected. My head rests on his bandaged chest and I groan. He leans forward, resting his head on top of mine and breathing deeply, "No, no. Crowley, a little longer. I need you." I'm almost in tears from my exhaustion. Surprisingly Crowley leans up, raising my chin with a finger.

We switch places, my body instantly thanking me for the rest. Crowley's fingers fumble with the buttons on my top. He slides the sleeves down; they're loose around my elbows.

"Wassat a knife?" he traces his fingers over the crusted blood. I nod and watch him clean it. He begins stitching me up and I'm almost falling asleep, "Ah, not yet, darling. If I'm awake, so are you." When he cuts the thread, he relaxes and drops his cheek to my exposed thigh. He's pressing kisses between telling me, "I've never been this tired."

I nod and stand unsteadily, tossing out the bloodied contents.

"I'll take care of that." Karen enters the room, leaving the kitchen door open. She cleans up the first aid kit, "I'd like to thank you; the both of you." When I nod, she smirks, "I've…held a grudge against your father for years. He dragged my baby into danger and I'll never forgive him for that. But…" she meets my eyes, "he raised one hell of a daughter." She embraces me and I wince, pulling back.

"Sorry, I'm-"

"Wounded. Right, sorry. Well, go rest now. We're packing tonight and leaving in the afternoon. You're free to stay here as long as you like, but we fear other demons will be led to this house. Take your father's truck, please. No more hotwiring."

Crowley's leaned against the wall when I turn, eyes closed and arms crossed over his shirtless, wounded chest. Though this makes me smile, most of me is worried about him.

Picking up another bottled water, I nod toward my aunt, "I'm glad uncle Bill is safe, but I have to get him to bed now. Some spell Beleth placed on him; no demon powers. He has to heal all these wounds like a human." I hug her lightly then walk toward Crowley and touch his good arm gently, "Ok, bub, off to bed." He startles and narrows his eyes behind me. I turn to see my aunt with this look on her face, the one she used to get when my dad talked about mom in front of her. Shaking it off, I tug at Crowley's wrist, pulling him with me up the stairs. Cecily is being told to leave us alone. The skin on our legs was covered in dirt, "Let's clean you up really quick." After the tub is started, I assume Crowley can handle himself so I walk out and undress with the door closed. My body looks like a cut up, bruised mess. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I feel exhausted. Crowley doesn't answer when I call him so I wobble into the bathroom. He's sound asleep in the bathtub. Though I'm exhausted myself, I pour soap on the washrag and begin scrubbing at Crowley's bloodied skin. He stirs and opens his eyes.

"What're you-" he seems frustrated.

"Then do it yourself!" I throw the rag at him and sit on the edge of the sink, closing my eyes.

When I wake, Crowley is running my own bath. He points and I drop my bra and panties, climbing in. Yawning, I wash my own body and sigh at the clean feeling. I'm completely clean, wrapped in a towel as I bandage Crowley's wounds and then my own.

Crowley's voice is laced with exhaustion, "Care to tell me about daddy dearest?"

My eyes flick from the bandage, to him, and back, "Another time." He surprisingly doesn't press the issue. I'm ready to drop by the time my feet carry me to the bed. The lights are off and I climb in beside the demon, sighing.

I'm out as soon as my head hits the pillow.


	23. Crescendo

The fact that I'm in bed with Crowley is bad enough. Granted, we were both too exhausted for anything sexual to happen. Waking up to find myself curled into his side? Yeah, that's a problem.

The covers are thrown off me before I get a chance to think. I'm changing clothes before he wakes, tossing on shorts and an off-the-shoulder white top with a black bra underneath. The demon snores loudly and I manage to close the door in my hurry. I pad my way toward the steps.

"Sasha!" I'm wrapped in a warm embrace instantly. My uncle smells of cigars and something that reminds me of childhood. I pull away. "Thank you for saving my ass up there. Your dad would be proud." Despite us not getting there right away, my uncle's wounds are less harsh than ours.

"What's family for?"

He sends me a smirk and turns back into his bedroom, "Karen and I are packing. We'll likely be done before lunch. We can't stay here."

"I know." I nod at him and watch him walk away. I exit as well, descending the stairs to where Jason sits at the kitchen table. His shoulders are hunched slightly. The gentle touch I give his back practically sends him through the roof. "What's the matter?"

He hesitates, "Do you think I did the right thing, killing that man?"

I knew this was coming, "Jason, your father's alive because of you. Without you killing that man, Beleth would have been powerful still and I never would have gotten out alive either. You saved my ass for once."

It's his first kill and I know he's uneasy, "I'll forget about it eventually, won't I?"

"No." his eyes widen, "Look, this is going to weigh you down if you let it. You need to tolerate your actions. That guy sure as hell wasn't innocent; he's killed tons using that demon as his weapon of choice."

"What does that make hunters then? What does that make you?" I'm silent and slightly offended, but Cecily runs in the room. Despite the possibility of re-opening wounds, I lift her when she reaches for me.

"Sleep well, there, chick?"

She nods. My eyes waver toward the stairs where Crowley leans against the handrail, curiosity plaguing his features, "How was your hike?"

I put her down, "Good. We…uh…got a few bumps and bruises; nothing to worry about." Crowley's making his way down the stairs and Jason stands too, on edge and weary.

"Come on, Cec, let's get the rest of our stuff packed up. Your parents are picking you up from the road." They leave to Jason's room.

"Morning." I nod at Crowley who picks up a glass of scotch, sets it back, and grunts, "You hungry?" He raises an eyebrow, "Look, I know demons don't eat, but since you're feeling human now, you should probably get something in your stomach." If I look into his eyes, I can see how tired he is. He's hiding it, "I'm not asking." I snap and storm over to the cupboard.

"Have you an answer?"

"What?" I start to make waffles.

"What your cousin asked you. What does that make you?" he pauses, "How many innocents have gotten in the way of you saving someone else? How many people did you kill to save dear old daddy, mum, or brother?" I turn on my heels, glaring, "Wonders never cease."

"Is it just me or are you ten times more obnoxious when you're feigning good standing? You're in pain, you're feeling hungry, tired, thirsty…and you have no idea where to start. But you'll never ask for help, will you?" I'm seething at this point. Crowley has stepped on my last nerve. "Feeling human after all this time; joy isn't it? How many other human emotions will you achieve today? Trust me, I can put you in a bigger world of hurt one more wrong move, so sit on the couch and wait for your damn food, you griping, pitiful pain in my ass."

His initial reaction is shock; I can read it all over his face. Slowly, I watch the corners of his mouth turning upward into a grin. He's getting a kick out of my angry outburst, like he did the night after Gabriel left me in the hotel. Thankfully, he leaves for the living room. Focusing on the breakfast, I breathe and cool down.

Soon Cecily creeps her way in the living room and between waffles, I peak passed the wall. Crowley rests on the couch, hand over his eyes, mouth in a hard line. My niece makes a game of poking at his nose and running backwards while giggling. It's cute, but not the best idea. After a few times, Crowley's wrist flicks as if he's trying his powers. Nothing happens. I go back to my waffles while he grunts at her to stop. My niece begins asking endless questions.

"Are you tired?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I am."

"Well why?"

I intervene, "Because we hiked yesterday."

"Why was he all bandaged up last night?"

"Because the klutz fell and hurt himself." I stack more waffles on a plate.

"Why did you sleep before I did last night?" I peak around the corner and find her staring at the demon that has turned his back to her and now closes his eyes once more.

"Because, I'm tired." He speaks through gritted teeth. It's silent for about five minutes and then,

"Why are you always dressed up, Mr. Crowley?"

"Feel like a winner, be a winner." Is his reply, "Now quit talking." His anger makes me laugh. Clearly, Crowley doesn't deal with children much; they're always asking questions. Cecily especially. She's very curious.

"Are you Auntie Sasha's Sweet Babboo?"

"Her _what_!?"

"It's a Peanuts reference. She's obsessed with Snoopy." I call over my shoulder. Again, it's silent until my niece giggles.

Crowley cusses in Latin, "I swear, little one; don't test me."

I laugh with the spatula in my hand, peaking in the room, "Really? What are you gonna do, Oh-So-Great and Powerless One?" Crowley's eyes open and he pushes himself up, walking menacingly toward Cecily who backs away. I step between the two, glaring and feeling Cecily press tiny fingers into my thigh, "Down, boy." His eyes narrow and he steps passed me to the kitchen.

Watching the demon eat is hysterical. For one, my niece is swinging her feet under the table, sitting opposite of him. She holds her fork with a fist and stabs the syrup-coated waffle pieces into her mouth. Her eyes don't leave Crowley's. He finally picks up the syrup bottle and carefully fills every indent. His napkin is gently placed on his lap and he grabs silverware. It's as if he knows the motions, but hasn't stomached anything in ages. Maybe he hasn't, I'm sure there wasn't a need after all.

"Well, aren't you going to eat!?" his voice is gravely and agitated and I like it.

I place a hand under my chin and nod toward him, "I will."

"What'd you do to these? Poison them?"

Cecily intervenes instantly, mouth full, "No! Auntie Sasha makes good waffles!"

"Thank you."

His first bite is slow. I watch the way his jaw clenches and unclenches, his eyebrows furrowing and then a breath leaving him after he swallows. The rest of the waffle takes no time at all. So I stand to serve him more and place two on my own plate.

After Crowley downs four waffles, Cecily speaks up, "It's like he hasn't eaten in a year!"

I bite my laughter down when he looks up from his plate. My uncle enters the room; I'm back to childhood again, awaiting orders. Crowley takes another waffle, unaware of the man standing behind him.

"So," Uncle Bill's hands are pressed into Crowley's shoulders, "we need to talk, good pal." The demon looks at me, curious and slightly fearful. "Cecily, go help Karen." My niece does as she's told, unlike her father would have. "I barely remember what happened when you two showed up."

Crowley fidgets, "Could you…?" he practically elbows my uncle. A quick shift of his fingers and Crowley's pressure points are hit. Bill smiles at me over Crowley cussing in pain.

"You saved my ass, but that don't mean I owe you." My uncle sees the humor leave my eyes after her speaks this. He's hit a nerve. "Though you did come up upon Sasha's request, huh? You are a demon, correct?"

Crowley is on edge, his face red, mouth a snarl of pain, and within a blink he pulls himself forward, sliding the chair back, and ducks away from Uncle Bill's punch. The two continue fighting while I call for them to stop. I stand and hurriedly try to pull my uncle back. He's six feet tall and too heavy for me to even budge. I get hit in the jaw by Crowley and stumble back, surprised at how strong it was. When I manage to lodge myself between the two, I keep my back to Crowley and face my uncle.

"You don't want to do this." I warn.

"He attacked me. This is my house. Don't tell me this ain't self-defense." He huffs. "We're family and you're taking his side?"

"This isn't about me. I didn't start this fight. You do owe him as far as I'm concerned. He was part of the cavalry that saved your ass." Crowley's breathing behind me is heavy, not used to that sort of fighting.

Bill nods once, "Fine. We're even." I wait for him to continue, "I didn't exercise him. Don't say I never did anything for you." Crowley pulls out another bottle of water; my eyes linger on him undoing the top buttons of his dress shirt a little too long. Uncle Bill notices. "What are you two doing?" his voice is lowered and tight. I bite my tongue and Crowley takes a relaxed sip of the drink. "This better not be what I think it is."

Aunt Karen bustles in now, holding a stack of clothes in her arms, "I noticed Mr. Crowley doesn't have anything to wear but that tattered, ruined shirt." If his powers were back, he could snap his fingers and be in back to his tailored self, "These are Jason's. Try them on." Crowley has this disgusted look on his face but he takes a single look at the ripped, bloodied shirt of his and sighs. Without so much as a 'thank you', he climbs the stairs to change.

"Thanks, Karen." I say quietly, "He's probably going to feel like a lesser being, but he'll just have to suck it up."

Uncle Bill still hasn't stopped glaring it me, "Karen, help Jason with the car. Sasha and I need to talk." Karen does as she's told to. I interlock my fingers behind my back and stare as if his presence doesn't terrify me. "You and that demon are more than you lead on, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're-"

He steps closer to me, "If your brother ever found out about this, he'd…"

"He'd what? Kill him? You and I both know he isn't up for that." I crack my back, "What makes you so sure that's what this is?" When the desire to hit my uncle gets too strong, I leave the room. Cecily sits on the guest bed, twisting her hair between her fingers. Her two little pink suitcases are packed and ready. "You get to see your parents soon, huh?"

"Yeah! Mom's gonna pick me up tomorrow on the road. We're gonna go on a road trip back home, then decorate the house for her dinner party coming up, and we'll see daddy! You should come."

"Sorry, spidermonkey. I have to stay here."

"To take care of Mr. Crowley?"

I tilt my head to the side and nod, "Exactly."

The front door opens then slams shut; Jason likely carrying his luggage to the car.

"Can you braid my hair before I leave?" Cecily holds up a hair tie. I climb on the bed behind her, setting her before my lap then part her hair for a fishtail braid. "Mr. Crowley likes you, doesn't he?" she's giggling.

"I'm not so sure about that." I've never been sure of that. Crowley's motives are always hard to pinpoint. A figure stands in the doorway, eyes sad, jaw clenched. "Well you look comfy." He shoves his hands in the pockets of black basketball shorts. He wears a white t-shirt with _Avenged Sevenfold_ scrawled in cursive across his chest, the deathbat symbol settled by his ribs. I smirk at the thought that it's one of Jason's favorite shirts. He and I share a music taste; always have.

"S'embarrassing." He pauses when he sees Cecily whose braid I'm finishing, looping the hair tie around the end. Jason enters.

"Why's he in my shirt?"

"Your mother gave it to him. Calm down." I roll my eyes.

"Cecily, we're leaving." He picks up her bags and comes to say goodbye to me. I stand. "It was nice seeing you again, cuz. I wish it were on better terms, but…" we hug and for once it's not awkward. I know all that's on his mind is the killing he did last night, but he needs to let it be. His father is breathing because of him.

"Take care of your parents." I request. He leaves before we get emotional. Cecily hugs me around the neck. She's too young to think what Jason does. I know that every time he leaves me, he feels like it will be the last he'll see of me. Cecily is still shadowed in this idea that the world is full of brightness and the monsters in movies are fake. "You be good for my brother, alright? Don't want him calling me in need of a nanny, ya hear?"

"I know!" we always joke about this, "Maybe I'll misbehave just so I can see you sooner."

"Don't push your luck." I scold with a slight smile. She jumps into my arms and I don't want to let go. When I'm playing Auntie Sasha, I forget about everything else. Monsters and demons can wait when that little girl is in my arms. She's gone too soon, and I cross my arms against my chest to prove that I don't need any other human being to complete me. All I need is what I can offer myself, right?

I wave to Aunt Karen and Uncle Bill from the front porch steps. My aunt has left me the truck keys along with the truck and enough kitchen supplies to cook if need-be. When I spin on my heels to meet Crowley's half-lidded gaze, I tense. He looks helpless and in pain sitting on the couch.

"I'm getting tired again." He mutters, soon resting back on his side. I make my way to him and kiss his forehead. He doesn't flinch.

"Well you don't have a fever." I reassure.

With Crowley resting again, I sneak upstairs. I grab my dirty clothes, fold the clean ones, and take a trip downstairs. Crowley's shirt he let me sleep in rests on top of the pile and I know he'll feel more like himself if he can wear it. Even with jeans it's better than nothing. After starting the washer, I busy myself cleaning my guns upstairs. A quick trip to put the clothes in the dryer is next and Crowley snores softly on the couch. I make another trip soon to my dad's truck, piling more guns in his lock box, but the knife stays in my duffle. He's awake when I walk to get the load of laundry when it's done. I pile the clothes on a chair and start folding them. He sits up.

"Issat my shirt?" his voice is deep and laced with sleep.

I nod, "Do you want it now or…?"

He lies back down, "Not yet. Too tired." He pauses, "And put some more clothes on." I glance down at my off-the-shoulder shirt and short shorts. For a moment when I look back at him, he's biting his lip. When I exit to get him another water I feel his eyes on me. After he hears the fridge close, he calls, "Make that a scotch."

"I would," I stride over to the couch, "but we're all out. They took it with them."

"Know what they didn't take with them?" he grabs my ass quickly, yanking me on top of him while scooting up. He rests his head on the arm rest when I kiss his neck. The groan that escapes him gives me chills. The water bottle is placed on the end table and I trail my hands down to his arms where I gently dig my nails into his skin. He swears so I pull back, "Wound." He grits his teeth.

"Sorry." I sit up now, straddling his hips. My fingers find their way to the bulge in his pants and I massage it. The way his eyes close makes me grin. I remember teasing him before and that thought drives me crazy again. His fingers grip into my thigh so I shift my hips onto his dick. He grunts then presses his thumb into my clit and I whisper his name.

"Don't do that." He warns, eyes open and staring at me. I glare at him and begin moving my hips as if we were in the act currently. He grips my sides, making me moan. I'm pressing my body into his and kissing him roughly. A part of me wants to continue but I know that he's tired and vaguely in pain. I stand up and walk outside before I change my mind. It takes me about five minutes to calm down and re-enter. Either Crowley is faking it or he really fell asleep that fast so I go put the clean, folded clothes back into my duffel. I decide to relax on the chair beside the couch. Getting a bit of shut-eye can't be a bad thing, right? Crowley's soft snoring eases me into relaxation.

There's an irritating scratching at my mind and when I open my eyes, I'm not in the chair beside Crowley. Here's it's warm and bright. Here I can feel a different presence and I'm happy this time. Gabriel brushes the hair from my eyes and tucks it behind my ear. He's all smiles and sweet smells and I don't even let him speak. We kiss. Soft, gentle pecks at first, but I pull back. Our eyes flick between each other's. Everything feels right, but my mind knows it isn't. I know how angry Crowley would be if I was found out. I know how angry a part of me is. Angry that he lied and how he acted toward the brothers as well as Crowl. Though, I'm glad to see that with everything happening Gabriel is alive. I want to belong with the angels; safe and shrouded with peace, but something in me is decidedly _bad_, horrifyingly cruel and maybe I feel as if I don't deserve him. I reach for a doorknob and pull when a tear falls from my lashes. All my life I've been programmed to be strong and to ignore every emotion; every human desire to befriend, to know and be known. Love is no different for me. Not even with an angel or a demon. I just can't help but feel afraid. Afraid of how deep of a grave I'm digging myself, afraid that – maybe just once – he'll be right for me. And, oh, how I want Gabriel to be right for me. Looking back, I've taken every opportunity to push him away. It's a typical barrier for me: don't want someone to hurt you? Don't let them get to know you well enough to comprehend _how_. It's a lonely path.

He sees this; the hurt and fear, and when the door opens, Gabriel shuts it only to pull me in. He's kissing me like fire kisses a burning building. I need this more than air. This addicting positive feeling leaves me weak, always. My fingers are in the strands of hair cascading on his forehead and he pulls me tightly into his arms. I wrap myself into him and cling on like he is my guardian, like he is the hookah I found myself doing as a teen: a temporary high, a simple escape. White sheets surround me; I'm naked now, soon covered by the bare chest of the angel. Fingers rub circles over my cheekbone, Gabriel's mouth a hard line.

"What are you doing to yourself?" he whispers and for the first time in a long time, I don't have an answer. I don't have some smart ass comment; only my thoughts.

I want to scream: _I'm pushing you away just like I pushed the brothers away. To keep you alive, to keep you safe. I only drag people down, and it's a long fall for an angel._ I want to press my forehead into his chest and cry; to bury myself deep inside of him, breathing in his blood, lulled to sleep by the beating of his heart. But I only stare. I stare and wait for something to show me my path. He kisses me again, slowly as if I'm wounded. And maybe I am. Damaged. The bruised apple at the old food mart I'd visited as a child. But I gave that apple a chance. I treasured its hindrance and it was just as well as any other apple. Who would give me that chance? Was it Gabriel? Or Crowley?

"I want you to stay." My hands reach for him when he stands.

The bed sheets are rumpled, a hand print on the place just above my heart. I bring my knees to my chest and let my fingers massage across the bed sheets. I've never had the chance to share a bed with someone and not have questions for them. I have endless questions for Gabriel. I start with the facts: Gabriel grabbed me from my aunt's. We did not just have sex, but he wanted to. He's lied to me in the past and used me. Crowley has too. Crowley and Gabriel are both enigmas. My mind is like an infant: having so many wonders, but unsure of the vocabulary to use and voice them. It frustrates me to the point of tears.

"Your demon is injured." He speaks slowly, "I could fix him for you. One touch. But, I'd want to make sure of something…"

"Here I thought Crowley was the one to make the deals." I grab my bra from the bedpost and slowly gather the rest of my clothes and dress.

He snaps and is dressed. Must be nice. "True. But, if I do this for you, you're mine. You don't go back to Crowley and fuck on the couch."

Something occurs to me, "How did you find us? We have-"

"Hexbags?" he smirks and points to himself, "Archangel." I bite my tongue, hating the feeling of our privacy being invaded. "It was only to make sure you were safe after the Beleth kill. Believe me, I'd rather not be a peeping Tom and see Crowley's lily white ass."

I pause, "Gabriel, you know he won't let you do this." I'm speaking softly, worried that this may be our only hope. How long will it take for Crowley to get better? Days? Months?

He gives me a genuine smile, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing gently again, "I know. I figure I'd try what I could."

"Give me a chance. I'll talk to him. Just let me try talking to him." Just like that, I'm back in the house, glancing around the kitchen. I have the urge to pack, knowing now that any archangel could be watching right this minute. There's nothing else to pack; I'd done it all. This waiting for Crowley to be better would be the death of me. I'm so used to driving around and busying myself. I'm putting my hair up and walking into the living room while thinking awful thoughts. Gabriel has always felt right. I don't know how else to put it. I assume because Gabriel is an angel, and angels are always thought to be good. With Crowley, if someone asks or looks upon us, it feels bad – negative, even. But when it's just us, it feels familiar. Always a little bit rough and fun.

I grab the keys to the truck, a credit card, and sneak out the door. With my quick stop at the grocery store, I've grabbed stuff to make lasagna, a couple bottles of the hardest whiskey my dad drank, condoms, and more Advil. I'm back and quickly making dinner in no time. I've been starving for a home-cooked meal. The brothers and I never had time to cook, nor did we have the supplies. If I didn't make dinner, this would be a missed opportunity. I sit in the kitchen until the meal is done. Three minutes left on the timer. I sip the small glass of whiskey I'd poured.

"Well, now. Pleasant wake-up call." Crowley's leaned against the doorframe.

"Feeling better?"

"Always, with the sight of you." He's angry, likely about how I left him before he fell asleep. We stay like this until the timer beeps; he with his arms crossed, staring nonchalantly at me, and me trying to hold his gaze. I grab a towel and take the pan out of the over, turning it off and setting the hot thing on the stove. I get a knife and begin cutting a few pieces. "Went all-out, I see."

"I figured you'd be hungry." I speak softly, afraid of how he'll take that. I notice when I look up that his eyebrows are knit together in confusion. When he breathes in the smell, his eyes close and the corner of his mouth tilts upwards. I lift two pieces onto paper plates Karen left me. She'd given us two non-matching forks and knives. That's Karen for you, always thinking ahead but never clearly. Crowley notices the whiskey. He smells my glass, makes an approving noise, and pours some for himself. We sit down together and my mind flashes to how normal this would seem to a passer-by – minus the warding symbols painted all around and the fact that Crowley is a demon.

We don't speak, just eat quietly. Crowley gets up for a second helping and pours more whiskey, takes a long drink halfway through that piece, then raises his glass, "Compliments to the chef, etcetera." I raise mine and take a sip. "Where did you learn to cook like that, your mother?"

I know what he's doing, and maybe it's the fact that I'm feeling a little buzzed or that I genuinely want to tell him, "My mom died when I was three." His eyes don't show any emotion but his silence urges me on, "I don't think dad ever got over it. He always kept moving; just kept pushing us forward and hoping that someday we'd find what killed her."

He takes another bite, chews, swallows, then asks, "And? Did you?" another glass of whiskey is poured and downed. I want to tell him to slow down, that it's strong and we don't know if he'll react like a demon or a human, but I think better of it.

I swallow my last bite, take a drink, and press the glass back to the table, "No." It's silent again so I stand, take both of our plates, toss them out, and begin washing Karen's silverware. I'm stuck in my head, replaying scenes of my father searching endlessly for mom's killer. Whatever it was. A rustling of a plastic bag catches my attention. Crowley has found the Advil and box of condoms. He chuckles, slamming back his fourth full glass of whiskey.

"You know, it's been a long time since we've…pleased one another." He stands close to me as I dry my hands, "I need you."

"You're drunk."

"So what if I am? That doesn't change anything. I want you; you, me. So why not?" I want to tell him about Gabriel and I, how I was taken and kissed and coddled. I want to warn him that Gabriel has made it clear he wants me with him, not the scruffy demon before me. I'm about to warn him and express that he – for some reason – has always been my first choice.

Instead, he picks me up, sets me on the counter, and presses his forehead to mine. I can smell the alcohol on his breath. His kisses are surprisingly gentle like they were before we went after Beleth.

"What do you say, darling? Another romp with the king?" his voice is gravelly and I cannot resist when he says, "I want to try it differently this time." I'm in his arms again, grabbing the box of condoms. He carries me up the stairs and into the bedroom. The blinds are wide open and the sun peaks over the mountain. The orange and red hues that enter the room are beautiful.

The demon takes my clothes off slowly, trailing his rough hands over my soft skin. His lips kiss up my leg to where thigh meets my center. The kisses are so delicate, his hands running up to fondle my breasts. I can't help but arch my back when his tongue flicks over my clit. He's fully clothed still. A talented tongue leaves me breathless until I'm gasping with the first orgasm of the night, but surely not the last. My eyes won't stay open; the high of the orgasm hasn't left me, but I hear Crowley opening the condom box and unzipping his pants. I hear the opening of the wrapper itself and I hold myself up on my elbows, watching as he rolls the condom on. His attention snaps to me. I'm undressing him before I comprehend my actions. After all this, I'm really going to spread my legs to him again. I'd denied him, practically mocked him last time. There's something about the look on his face that makes me feel guilty. I care about him, as much as I want to deny it, and he looks desperate…needy.

This time is different. This time he's letting me undress him. He's easing himself onto me and planting kisses up my body until he reaches my lips. He's massaging my biceps when he pushes into me. He waits for me to get used to him again then begins moving slow. Our lips are attached for longer than I'm used to with him. I'll never admit it aloud, but his lips are soft and – considering how he seals deals – I'm jealous of the lucky bastards that get to kiss him. The demon trails kisses to my neck, rubbing my shoulders gently. When he rolls onto his back and lets me climb on top, he smiles – a genuine smile. His eyes close when I first start moving, but every moment afterwards I feel him watching me. The slow blinking and sharp inhales make me smirk. Fingers trail over my skin, finding spots that give me chills; spots I never knew existed. No one has ever taken the time to search. I'm feeling completely content, relaxed even. When Crowley sits me in his lap and kisses me while adjusting me on his shaft, I gasp. He chuckles and pushes the hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. We're kissing again – roughly – and my body tingles.

"Sasha…" he grunts, "nails." It's then that I realize my fingers are pressing into his bullet wound again. I pull back, an apology already on my lips, but he rubs my cheekbone with his thumb and kisses me gently. I melt into him, pulling my legs as tightly around his frame as I can. I have that feeling again of wanting to bury myself in his arms, get under his skin and know _everything_. What's he like when no one is looking?

I fall backwards, allowing him to crawl onto me. He picks up pace momentarily when he notices my jagged breathing. I'm on the edge of my second big o and he knows it. Gentle fingers rub my clit while he slows his pace and I'm breathing his name into his naked chest, kissing and sweating and tears prickling in my eyes. Crowley kisses the top of my head, rubbing my hair and resting against his arched arm, looking at me.

Things are too perfect; it always happens like that: it's slowly torn away from me. I feel complete, like everything I've ever dreamed of is within reach. And then it's like he's awakened from this human state. His fingers were rubbing gentle circles into my neck, but he stops all movement. His eyes go red, fingers pressing into my collarbone, bruising me with each prick. I'm digging nails into his wrist to stop, screaming, kicking away from him, but he starts thrusting again, hand digging harder into my already bruised flesh. He pants, bites his lower lip, and I feel him pulsing inside of me. Every fiber of my being tells me to run. But I don't. Not when he pulls out of me, not when he dresses, and certainly not when he leaves me alone in this tattered bed; bruised, aching, pleased, and utterly…empty.

He tosses out the condom, dresses, and is on the stairs by the time I find strength enough to stand. I dress hurriedly and splash water on my face in the bathroom. I tell myself that nothing has changed; things would be the way they were before, but I am wrong. My legs carry me down after him, finding him on the porch steps. I sit next to him on the wood, staring at the stars. He nurses the second bottle of whiskey. Every sip he winces lightly. It's not his brand and the more he drinks the more he notices, but at this point we can't snap our fingers and discover a bottle of Craig.

"Most of my vessel is sorry, but I don't want it to be." He finally speaks.

"It's fine."

"Only it isn't. You've always wanted that, have you not? All these years as a hunter, you've never done that. Sex, yes. You want normalcy; would be completely content waking up every morning to make breakfast for someone, to have a home, go on dates. Poor little Sasha always resented big brother for settling down. Not because he left the family, but because he did something you never could. You can't separate work from your life. It's always going to be there, hm?"

"Don't put all of this on me," I warned after ignoring the tears in my eyes, "You were the one who suggested this. You watched me the entire time, why? Examining me? Why does it matter? You were slow and loving, even. I could see it in your eyes." He looks down then.

"Believe me: if I could control it, I would. This spell has me spinning in circles." He grits his teeth, "This was _not_ my brand of fun." His eyes linger toward the stars and when he speaks again, that rough angry voice has melted, "You never watched romance movies or read those raunchy novels, why?" I don't answer; just stare out into the blackness of the evening, "You were always afraid. Never let yourself get close after your first love broke your heart. No serious relationships, but, why should you? If everyone was going to use you for sex, there's no point." I looked at him, "Ah, struck a nerve, have I?"

"How do you know all this about me?"

He snaps again, "What, the fact that you're desperate for 'making love' not 'fucking'?" I look away again, partially hurt. "I…don't know." He's foggy now, eyes scanning back and forth as if searching for answers, "My powers are beginning to come back, I feel it.

"Believe it or not, we shared something special up there." I pause, "I've never made love before."

"That's not what-"

"-Only it was. These human emotions you're experiencing are common human dreads. We fear being lonely. There's this…dull ache we carry with us. You strive for that currently." I close my eyes and focus on the emptiness. Being lonely is a strange thing. There are days that are better than others. Waking up to an empty bed is easier than falling asleep to one. Cuddling with pillows like they're humans searching, striving for an unquenchable love. The lowest I'd ever been was buying baggy shirts just to wear them to bed. I'd told the cashier that they were for my boyfriend; that he let me sleep in his so often, he barely had any shirts. A lie, it was always a lie. There was never time for men. Hunters were always admiring my work and what they'd heard rather than admiring me. I craved to be seen.

"I've never done that in this life." Crowley's gravelly voice beckons me from my thoughts and I hold onto it like a red balloon. I'm suddenly reminded that I want to know him. Crowley is an enigma; always has been. When I finally think I have him down to a 'T', he discovers that I'm onto him and alters again. He's always six steps ahead of me and typically I'm standing back admiring.

"Crowley, what's your real name?" he raises an eyebrow as if to challenge, '_are you an idiot?'_ "No, your real name I mean."

I can see in his eyes the alcohol is wearing off. Maybe it's the fact that his powers are slowly coming back. "You're joking." He chortles, "You must be bloody kidding me. What is this, show and tell? Ducky, I _don't _make love, and I sure as _hell _don't spill my deepest to a good lay." When he stops talking, I take his hand and press each finger into the bruises he'd made on my collarbone. I can see the bit of humanity mixing in his eyes but he pulls his hand away, throws the bottle of alcohol across the dusty ground, and listens to it break. His hands run from his forehead to his chin. I release the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. With my hopes wiped out, I stand and begin walking back inside when I hear, "Fergus. Fergus Roderick McLeod."

I'm dizzy. Hands fumble for the doorknob. My only thought is to get inside; slam the door. My heart feels like it'll beat out of my chest. I'm sliding to the ground against the wall. My head pounds. _Echoes. I hear them over the sound of my heartbeat. Whispers, grunts, cries. Heat rises to my ears, pain shooting down my spine. I hear a name being croaked by a voice I don't know. There's a laugh. I can hear skin tearing, someone being impaled. It's me. My blood flows from my chest to between my thighs. Chains jingle. A hand grabs mine. The blunt, wooden slab moves with every breath I take. It cuts across the meat beyond my bones. The fingers tighten around my hand. I turn my head to look._

I'm staring at the kitchen walls, still on the ground. My hand grasps at my chest and I can't seem to catch my breath for the life of me. No blood or wound is found. I breathe, comforted by the cold kitchen floor beneath me.


	24. Absence of Color

Crowley

Sasha is hiding something. She wasn't in her bed this morning. Granted, neither was I, but I have my reasons. For example, I woke up on that musty old couch with a sharp pain shooting down my spine. Being human is the most unfortunate thing I've dealt with since that time in Yugoslavia. Sleeping beside Sasha was the last thing on my mind considering our romp in that bed. Unfortunate. I mean, _making love?_

"I was taking a walk." She said when she stumbled in the house this morning. Her eyes were bloodshot and dark circles rest beneath them. She hadn't slept all night, and now she was mentioning leaving?

"I'll drive." I insist before we step out, but one look assures me otherwise.

And then it's a slow-motion picture: her stepping outside to get tackled off the porch by a black-eyed bastard. Two struggle to contain me, but I'm feeling a sudden burst of energy and my strength is back. Just enough time to distract the one on top of Sasha and a bright orange light penetrates my pupils. The other two are prepared but I snatch the knife from Sasha and stab the two like I'm back to my old self. I can feel my powers strengthening once again.

"What the fuck?" she's out of breath from her fall and rubbing a spot low on her back. Some deep part of me wants her on my lap, massaging the kinks out. I shake it off and decide that being away from her for now is best.

"Beleth's followers. Come, now, you didn't really think killing him would be the end-all?" She's silent. That's exactly what she thought. A part of me feels the need to help her up, but I fight against it and walk to the door. "S'locked."

She huffs up, brushes off, and grabs the duffel from just inside the house. The house door remains closed but unlocked. When she finally makes her way to my door and unlocks it, she shoves passed me. Getting under her skin is way more enjoyable than I remember.

On the road, we sit in silence. Hex bags are haphazardly shoved in the door pockets. The radio rests idly. When she turns it on, Journey starts playing. I huff. It's as if I'm traveling with the Winchesters. As we pass by scenery, I close my eyes and focus on causing the slightest bit of damage. Having useless hands is currently driving me up a wall. I want to snap a bottle of Craig into my hands, but I'm not there yet. When I manage to crank the window down with just a thought, my head instantly hurts. It's a sharp pain that makes me press my hands against my skull. I grit my teeth.

"Are you alright?" her voice is full of fear but I don't open my eyes. She pulls to the side of the freeway and throws the truck in park. "Crowley, hey, hey…come on. What all hurts?"

"My fucking head, you dim-witted twig." I snap.

She's silent. The duffel unzips and I finally open my eyes to be greeted with her ass practically in my face. She's reaching in the back and though my pain is excruciating, I can't help but admire the view. When she sits back, her fingers press two pills into my hand.

"Take them and listen to me for a second." For a moment she relaxes in her seat and exhales, but thinks better of it and shifts back into drive. We ease back onto the freeway. The pills feel like they're cutting my throat open when I swallow them dry. I imagine razor blade slitting the walls of my throat. "Gabriel contacted me yesterday."

She has my attention as well as a death glare. "You've got to be-"

"-Listen!" there's a sigh, "He knows what's wrong and says that he can help you."

"Help me what? Get my demon powers back? From the goodness of his heart?" I know there's more to it. No deal goes without its price, I know that; better than anyone.

"That's the thing," she shifts her eyes from the road to me. I wince, afraid of what the sight of them might do. Flecks of red prickle at the corners of my eyes. I'm feeling warm. I look out the window. "If we do this, he wants me with him."

_Out of the question_ is my initial thought. But, this might give me some time to get my head back on straight. Maybe in her time with him, he'll spill his guts and hopefully anything juicy about Purgatory. I feign defeat and say, "I'd hate to ask it…"

When she meets my eyes, I'm sorry I looked. She's fearful for me. Her look is surprisingly protective but defeated. She expected me to deny any contact with that bloke. Her mind is a wildfire that needs to be blanketed out, but I am unable to do that when mine's just the same. I need time. And this is just what that winged monkey will give me.

After twelve full hours of driving, Sasha speaks over the droning music, "I need to sleep."

"Didn't you do that last night?" she knows I'm aware she didn't but she bites her tongue. "Fine." Next exit, we stop at some dump. I refuse to sit in a chair. Instead, the wall supports me while she crashes onto the bed.

"So am I getting Gabriel tomorrow or…?" her voice is fading, sleep taking over.

"We'll see in the morning." I hush. Ten minutes is all it takes. I pop out, finally able to do so. The field beside the parking lot will do. I whistle for Gabriel, chuckling.

"Well, look what dragged itself out of the garbage to beg for my help. What can I do for ya there, Crowley?"

"Listen, you little prick, I wouldn't be doing this unless it was for Sash's own good. She's not safe here."

"Yeah, with demons on your ass, of course. Climbing up that corporate ladder." The prick leans against a tree.

"She killed Beleth. They're after her too, believe it or not. So help her." We spend a moment glaring at one another. "I'm asking for her sake." He nods finally, "This doesn't mean I'm handing her to you. She's a prize I intend to take for my own."

"You'll be back for her." He's not questioning. I nod. "I'm guessing you don't need my magic fingers to oust some demon spell from your bones, eh, you mighty morphing demon ranger? You seem pretty hard for a guy who's pretending to be limp-dick from a spell."

"S'far as she knows, I'm still baking under this curse, yeah?"

"It's the only way she'll come with me, isn't it?" I manage a smile at the hurt undertone of his words. He straighten, "Well, whatever. I'll have her beginning to stay when you're ready to try and take her back."

"G'luck with that, angel." He starts walking to the motel room, but I stop him, "She comes on my terms. I'll speak with her in the morning; you pop in when I'm gone."

Every ounce of him wants to fight, but he raises his hands in innocence and backs off. The sound of wings replaces the crickets. I smile. I've won.

Sasha

_Clinking metal. Heat. Burning flesh. Mine._

_Silver chains match the silver knife in front of me. The skin on my wrist is raw and tearing, my vocal chords sore. I'd been screaming. Likely from the rod iron scorching against my thigh; orange glow still steady from the burning coals. The silver gleams in his hands, a reflection of hazel eyes in the blade. I'm red-faced and cursing, but not crying – never crying. The steam around me makes it hard to focus on features, but this man is tall, broad, balding. He mutters something just low enough to be out of ear-shot, but I'm holding onto it anyway. There's not much else to do._

_ A jab. Familiar pierce. I can feel it in my jaw, just below my chin. The pain makes me gag. The knife is left there, dangling from my jaw, as footsteps retreat. I can move my tongue over the tip puncturing through my mouth. Adrenaline has set in, the pain fading vaguely, but I can still taste the iron in my blood, I feel the tender, oozing pink gums around the silver._

_ A kick to my gut. Basic reaction: curl body into itself. Only I can't. The chains rattle and it's only a moment too late when I realize the point: my head goes down, knife's hilt hitting against my breasts, and the skin sears to widen the wound through my tongue, up to the roof of my mouth, tickling against my teeth. I can't scream this time. I can't call for help. I am silenced._

The sheets are soaked in my sweat, red fading from the corners of my eyes and it's sadly familiar. I'm used to these now. Every bit more exhausted than the last time. Sleep seems not to be an option.

Either Crowley slept on the floor or not at all because the sheets beside me aren't rumpled in the slightest bit. He occupies the chair across the room, fingers pressed into his cheek, arm arching to hold his head up. He looks like hell, but I'm sure I look similar, judging by the curve of his grimace.

"That couldn't mean a romantic dream, could it, jumping out your skin like that?" I only glare and stumble to the bathroom to turn on the shower. "Very social today."

Water cascades down my flesh. I trail fingers across my jaw but shake off the clouds from my nightmares just to wash myself completely. I hope to remove the stain I'm feeling tainted with. It doesn't work so I turn off the water, wrap in a towel, and step out.

"So, feeling better?" When he doesn't answer I enter the room and stare at him. A blush creeps to my cheeks from the way his eyes trace over my body. Running a brush through my hair proves difficult when the towel slightly falters. I see Crowley shift then clear his throat.

"Better, but not best." He finally answers, standing up. It's as if he needs to regain some type of superiority by reapplying the height difference between the two of us. It's pointless. No matter how hard I struggle, Crowley always towers over me; even when I think I've got the upper hand, I'm wrong.

"So, Gabriel…?" he raises eyes to me.

"-Gabriel unfortunately was here last night." He waits for my reaction. I give none. "Seems he'll work his magic. I'll get worse before I get better. He'll meet us here." I toss the brush in my bag, hold my towel with one hand, and grab the slip of paper he hands me between two fingers. "Apparently, there's more to it than just a flick of the wrist."

I dress and we're off, driving down some secluded highway. The sun is blinding. I worry about Crowley. He seems alright to me, but who knows what is poking at him. I pull up to the graveled drive of a warehouse. We get out.

"Here?" the windows are boarded up, door swinging from the wind, and graffiti coating the blue shingles. I pull the gun from my back pocket and ease inside, Crowley beside me.

"Ya made it!" the echo of a voice jolts me and I aim, "What a way to greet me, Sash." Gabriel is disappointed. I lower my gun and put it away. The two men look at each other, as if having a silent conversation. "Listen, you're not gonna want to see this. It gets gruesome. Now, please…" he's about to snap me out of here.

I choke out a, "Wait!" and he raises an eyebrow. Turning on my heels to Crowley, I stomp over to him. He looks lazily down at me. On my tiptoes I press my mouth to his. I think he can taste my fear because he cups my cheek. I hold onto his neck while rubbing circles with my thumb on his forearm. The kiss is broken sooner than I'd hoped, but when we pull away our eyes scan each other's. I'm looking for any source of pain, any glimmer of the old Crowley in his eyes. He's there – defiant – if only for a moment, because when he meets my gaze his eyes widen and he's suddenly doubled over in pain.

He hasn't met my gaze in some time… This is my last thought before a snap sounds. I'm now inside of a large, expensive-looking house. Crowley is nowhere to be seen.

Crowley

I hadn't expected it, honestly. My pain had faded hours ago, nearly a full day. But here again, one look at her eyes and I'm fighting off the blood red clouds in my vision. The walls spin, my head aching.

"Look at this mess." There's a cackle.

"You're doing this?" I grit through my teeth.

"Doing what, big boy?" he mocks, but when I can focus on his features, he's genuinely confused.

Though my temples throb, I can stand at my full height again. Specks of red and orange dance in my eyesight, "Not your problem. Now go." The angel is hesitant, but nods once and tots off. "Grayson." Oh, the plans I have for this warehouse would put Elizabeth Bathory to shame.

Sasha

"Hey there, hot shot." Gabriel calls behind me. I'm currently peeking out the window for my truck. He snaps and it appears in the drive. "Now, anything else I can do for you?"

My gaze shifts to him. A part of me wants to ask what the catch is. I know there has to be one somewhere. I'm prisoner here, aren't I? "Anything?"

"Say the word."

My eyes narrow, "So let me get this straight: you'll let me have whatever I want? You'll snap your fingers and wham!" he raises an eyebrow, "You're holding me captive here and-"

"Captive? No. You're a guest." I don't believe a damn word of it.

"Alright then I want to go out."

"I'll go with you."

"By myself."

"No can-do." He pops a chocolate in his mouth.

"I want to see Crowley."

He sighs, "Yanno, you're making this pretty freggin' difficult." I cross my arms over my chest, "Fine." Two steps and he's in my personal space, "You want to see so badly? Have it your way." Two fingers press to my forehead.

There's Crowley, in the warehouse I left. Gabriel stands above him while he writhes in pain. A hand presses to his forehead and I watch red vein-like lines flaming across his visible skin. His mouth opens in a gasp and then he falls backwards. Gabriel vanishes and Crowley begins coughing up blood. His skin is now pasty white, fingers clenching and unclenching when he rolls over to his back. Pupils are small, breathing uneven, and then I'm pulled from view.

"I have to go back there!"

Gabriel steps toward the kitchen, "No, you don't."

"But Crowley's-"

"Crowley's a big boy and – trust me – after torturing so many in hell don't you think he deserves a little payback?" his eyebrows wriggle. My anger jolts me toward him. I ball my fists into his collar, pulling a fast back, but I'm overpowered. Gabriel pushes me into a wall and I grunt, surprised. Lips are feather-soft on my jaw, trailing down. I can't help the moan that leaves me. He smirks; I feel it beneath my chin. My anger is long-gone, as if I'm in a trance. I'm butter in his hands. "Wanna take this upstairs?"

And just like that, I snap out of it. I pull away, clawing him off me. My mind is on Crowley kissing me before I left, crying out with no one there. He's my responsibility. We rely on each other and overcome every obstacle to assist one another. Though, mostly, it's his personal interest that motivates him. Though we're technically nothing exclusive, I still feel a connection to him. If Gabriel and I fooled around, I don't think he'd let the angel survive one more day.

Without a word, I leave the room. My head is spinning so I wander outside. There's a brick wall surrounding this place and an in-ground pool that looks stunning. The crystal blue water beckons me, but I'm without a swimsuit.

A snap catches my attention and there Gabriel is, smirking at me. The breeze blows and I'm feeling it all over my skin. I'm in a skimpy black bikini now.

"Gabriel!" I yell but he only laughs and walks back inside.

My clothes are on the poolside chair, but I dive in. This is just what I need: a break.

After about an hour, I get out and begin drying off. Gabriel walks out with a drink for me.

I raise an eyebrow, "Cranberry and vodka." He hands it to me and I drink. "How'd your dip go?"

I sit, "Peachy. You gonna kill me now?"

"What!?"

"Listen, this is all sweet and nice, but I'm not a fool. Time to relax isn't what I do. It's not what I'm made for. So, tell me, what do you want from me?"

He doesn't answer, just nods in my direction, "Fell on your back?"

I'm on the defensive, "How'd you know that?"

He points and I'm fidgeting to eye the bruise on my back. "Gnarly. Here," Fingers press into my back, rubbing gentle circles where the pain shoots down my back. There is sudden relief and I exhale. Gabriel's hands work my back after he's healed me. I'm feeling incredible, but pull away again. Letting my guard down is out of the question. With my clothes in my hands, I march up the cold tile stairs to wash the chlorine out of my hair.

Gabriel must have snapped this place up; it's too expensive-looking. Marble sink, clear-glass shower stalls, California King bed. It's unbelievable. Apparently he knew I was coming; he stocked the closet full of clothes, surprisingly my size. Creepy. I chose a pair of comfortable shorts and a wifebeater.

As I descend the marble stairs, Gabriel meets my gaze. Candles are lit at the dining room table, a feast planted upon the wood. I feel underdressed, but mostly as if I don't deserve a feast. We sit in silence, pass the plates around, and I eat without tasting a bit, just to get something in my stomach.

"When are you gonna realize?" he mutters over his third glass of wine. "He'll never love you." I bite my tongue on accident, press it to the roof of my mouth. The iron taste leaves tinges of nightmare in my head. I keep eating. "That's what this is about; why you keep pushing me out. You don't want to dirty the false relationship you've created in your head." He slams the glass down. My eyes jolt up. "You think you can care about him enough for the both of you." I've never heard Gabriel talk this way. It's frightening. "Why don't you leave him for someone who could love you?"

The words spill out before I can swallow them down, "Because I don't deserve it!" I yell, "I shouldn't be loved back! There is something awful in my blood. I can't claw it out of me."

Those lips of his are in a hard line, twitching upwards as if to speak, but he waits a beat while I catch the breaths I've lost. "Why do you feel that way?"

I'm being analyzed. I hate it, "Stop. Just stop." He's evaluating me like I'm Will Graham. "Give up. Find some devout Christian woman who will believe an angel has come to her. Find someone who could do good in your life." I contemplate asking him why it's me he's after, why he cares so much what happens to me, who I'm with, or why I'm the way I am.

"You could do good." His voice is raised now, just slightly, but I notice it. It's silent. I drink. "Who broke you so badly?" the words startle me and I breathe shakily. To be honest, I'm not sure why. There's a memory scratching at the back of my mind like sandpaper on wood, but for the life of me I cannot hold onto it. There's only a stabbing pain in my gut. "As much as you wanna assume, Crowley can't fix ya. Sorry, kiddo."

"You're so sure?"

He smirks, "I'm one hundred percent on this one." I soften at the thought of it. Maybe he's right. "You deserve someone who will take care of you." Crowley does. "Coffee in the mornings, kisses before bed. You deserve someone to understand you on a profound level, someone that will look at you and you'll know – you'll just know – that he loves you." My mind is silent, but trying to scream. "Look, I don't know much about it, but I'm sure he's not the one to do that for you."

I can't help but feel like a complete girl. My insides are flipping but I stand, "I'm going to bed." I turn and hear the flap of wings. Gabriel stands in front of me, eyes hazy. His thumb is on my chin and he pulls me in. Delicate kisses, sweet taste, vague hums against my lips, and we part. I'm breathless.

"Goodnight," he says.

_Goodnight_ I try to whisper, but don't make a sound. Suddenly I'm overcome with guilt and confusion, but a floating feeling above all. I curl my fingers into his shirt and rest my head against his chest. The vessel's heartbeat calms me. Lips press against my forehead when I pull back, but he releases me and guides me up the stairs to the bedroom I'm staying in. Climbing into bed, exhaustion takes me over.

My sleep doesn't last very long; about six hours and I'm up again. I dress quietly and tiptoe down the stairs. Gabriel rests in an armchair, watching the tv which is turned down too low. My cheeks burn at the thought that he'd done this for me.

"Oh! Hey. Uh, I…I made you coffee." Our conversation from last night pops in my head. Coffee sounds good now. He follows me. Just as I'm pouring it, there's a loud thud. My eyes widen, unconsciously reaching for my belt loop but forgetting the knife is upstairs. A snap sounds, Gabriel poofs the knife through my belt loop and he steps toward the door.

A group of ballsy demons break it down which makes Gabriel turn toward the sigils drawn on the windows. They're gone and my mind flashes to Crowley. It is likely he knows that Gabriel and I are getting more comfortable with each other. What other demon would have the juice to remove sigils? A demon catches Gabriel off-guard, tackling him to the ground. I launch myself toward the tussle. Other demons grab me back and I struggle, finally freeing my hand and sending a right hook into one of their faces. My hand reaches for my belt loop but the knife isn't there. Before I choke on my tongue in fear, I hear two separate screams: one from the demon Gabriel just wasted, and the other is covered by a man I'd never seen; a man holding my knife. I knee the demon in the gut and punch his cheek. When I turn to get my blade back, the man holds his hand into my back and slices the demon's neck. Instinct tells me to rip him apart. Who is this man? Rouge demon maybe? Whatever it is, he needs to be killed. I turn to him.

There's movement before my eyes, it takes a while for me to focus, but I feel a pain in my back. I'm pressed into the wall. My blade is slipped back to its rightful position. Hands hold me up. My eyes meet his crystal blues.

"New pet?" he's not speaking to me, but I catch his accent and can't place it.

"In a sense…now down." Gabe brushes himself off and snaps the demon's corpses away.

Another angel. Now I can feel his grace. My hands rest on his shoulders from how he's holding me. His head dips to my neck and he breathes in. Chills shoot through my body.

"Lovely." He practically groans against my skin. I'm on fire with a mix of annoyance and attraction. "Sasha, I presume?"

"Y-yes." I manage. He kisses my neck once, a simple peck. He's smiling against my skin.

When he pulls back, he looks into my eyes, "Have it my way, you'd be screaming that all night." I'm blushing when he finally puts me down. Gabriel stands on edge when he introduces himself with a kiss on my hand, "Name's Balthazar. Pleasure's all mine."

Gabriel breaks our staring contest, "Ok, what were you doing here?"

Balthazar shoves his hands in his pockets, "Found out Crowley was sending his muttonheads after you. Figured I'd save your ass." He pauses to look at me, "Though, I wasn't aware you had such company." He smiles again, "Are you aware of how famous you are? I mean, killing Beleth all by yourself? Very impressive, peach."

"Enough, Balthazar." Gabriel's tone is annoyed, "I've got to go pay a visit to Crowley. This wasn't part of our little deal."

"I'll go with you."

"You'll stay here." He seethes, "Frenchie, care to watch over my little pet? Thanks." He's gone.

Every instinct tells me to break from this house to my truck, and bust ass over there.

"So full of anger, young one." He's still watching me.

"Are you an archangel?"

"Afraid not." He saunters over to the bottle of wine on the counter and pours himself a glass.

"Isn't it a bit early to be drinking?"

"Oh, it's never too early, love." He chuckles, "Now, what shall we do? Alone in this place? Skinny dip? Body shots? Come, I'm sure you've got many a suggestion."

He's so frank and it makes me laugh, surprisingly. There's something suave about him. He's confident. "Balthazar, let's talk."

We sit on the couch for about an hour and he tells me about battles of heaven. How he fought beside Castiel, faked his own death, and enjoyed the life humans do. I learn how passionate he is about human life, how intrigued he is by the idea of living to our fullest. Connecting with him is something I didn't imagine doing. And then he asks about me, how I like being a hunter, how working with Sam and Dean is, and how being with Crowley came about.

"Surely you didn't purposely befriend a demon."

"No, it was more sudden. I was hunting demons that night. The team I was with…there were nine of us total. I got out – barely. The demons tore every one of those strangers to shreds. I couldn't let them get away with it. I waited by myself, fought most of them off and exorcised them, but Crowley finished them off. It was just the two of us then, bodies around the field."

"Romantic." Balth droned with an eye roll.

"He'd killed his comrades for me. I was bleeding everywhere. He hands me a handkerchief to sop the blood up and walks away."

"So you were fascinated? That's all this is!" he laughs, "You know, heaven's got its eyes on you." I look at him, "You've royally pissed them off."

"And you?"

He finishes his wine, "I'm no longer associated with those brats. See, I'm somewhat of a rebel. Chicks dig that sort of thing. Especially, I hear, the ones screwing around with demons." He nudges my shoulder. "He's boarded himself up in some warehouse; angel-warding and all."

"Crowley?"

A nod, "Pretty brunettes, such as yourself, are going missing." He grabs my arm and pulls me on top of him.

"What do you think he's up to?" I'm more focused on the conversation.

He smirks, "Hm, let's consider that for a moment, shall we?" I feel his fingers trail up my thighs. "Rumor on angel radio claims you two made love. Not just some romp in the sack either. The sex must be good." I glare, "If I were in his place and aware of that little gem, I'd be trying everything to forget it."

"What?"

"He's a demon, Sash. Don't expect him to…"

I interrupt, "No, I don't think he'll just up and love me." I wonder if I keep telling people this it will eventually sink into my own brain. "I just want to know what he's doing with these girls." The look Balth gives me isn't good. I bite my lip, "You think…?"

"Either sex or murder…or both, whichever order that pretty little head of yours musters." I can't help it; I'm disappointed. "Painful, isn't it? You gave yourself up to Gabriel, practically a prisoner here, holding yourself off of sex with him just because you hoped something would blossom with Crowley. And there he is, screwing women just a few miles from here." His breath is on my lips, "So, care to get under his skin? I'm plenty good with my tongue, that's a promise."

I get off his lap and grab my keys from the oven where Gabriel hid them when I'd first arrived. Balthazar doesn't say anything when I leave. I'm in the car, speeding back to the warehouse I'd dropped Crowley off at. I don't want him to see me, just in case. Sneaking inside is easier than I think. I'm sure it's because it's angel-proof. Grayson stands guard at the door when I enter.

"Miss, you mustn't be here." He whispers, following me when I pass him.

"I'm here for one thing." When I peak into the corner of the window, I can see the girl's eyes are black. Either Crowley had her possessed or she was already a demon when he snatched her. She resembles me in height, hair, and eye color. Crowley doesn't kiss her, doesn't stroke her like he did with me. There's no passion. He sheaths himself inside of her and grunts something that sounds like my name. My stomach lurches. Before I can bolt in and exercise the demon from her to save the woman, Grayson pulls my arm and shushes me out the door. The summer air fills my lungs.

"Leave quietly and I won't tell him you were here."

I swallow the lump in my throat and stride back to the truck, starting it, and backing out of the gravel road. When I return, Balthazar is still on the couch, Gabriel nowhere to be seen. I toss my keys to the table. Balthazar smirks but doesn't rise. I'm on top of him in seconds. He lets out an, "umph" at the unexpected pounce.

"If we do this, it's kept between the two of us." I'm not asking and he knows this.

"Ooh, I like how you think." Our lips are attached almost instantly.

I need this. Not Gabriel or Crowley; they're too confusing for me currently. Balthazar is a neutral choice. I'm hurt. I'm desperate for any type of adoration and Balthazar has shown signs of attraction since we met. Why not? I'm a grown woman and I can make these decisions myself, Goddamnit.

He strips off his coat slowly then unbuttons my shorts. One hand fiddles inside my panties and presses fingers against my clit, the other cupping my face. I can't help but gasp. When I pull off his shirt, I'm surprised to see pure muscle; a hard, chiseled chest. A necklace dangles between his pecks and I bend my head down to trail kisses across the tan skin. His finger leaves me momentarily to drop his shirt to the ground, and then it's back, arching in the most perfect way. He pushes another finger inside me and mutters a half-assed warning when my mouth gets right above the waistband of his boxers. I nip at the skin and palm him through his jeans.

"Not much room here. Upstairs?"

At my suggestion, he pulls his fingers from me and I stand. He's licking the tips when he pushes me to the wall, back to the position we started in when meeting. I taste myself on his mouth until he starts kissing down my neck. Every fiber of my being wants him to rid my mind of my anger, annoyance, and frustration. So I cling to him and shut my eyes so the tears don't form. I focus on the way he feels against me; his warm, tan skin, handsome features, and manly smell. If I can forget about the way Crowley looked inside another woman, I will be golden.

"Lot on your mind, princess?" Balth huffs into my shoulder. I nod, "Ah, let ol' Balthy take care of that, hm?" We kiss sweetly, tenderly. My legs wrap around him and all I hear is my heart. And then a slam. "Have you got bad timing, brother," he speaks against my lips and then rests his head against the wall, nipping at my shoulder. Gabriel comes into view over my misty eyes. Heavy breathing, tense shoulders, a grimace, and clenched fists. I ball my own hands into fists and dig my nails into Balthazar's skin.

"I've had enough of this." His voice is barely audible.

"Don't put me down." I whisper repeatedly to Balthazar, getting the sense that something terrible is about to happen. When he looks at me, his eyes hold concern. I don't take my eyes from Gabriel after that.

"Brother, put her down." Balthazar's eyes shift between mine. He doesn't move. "Now!" I'm shocked when he does, clinging against the fabric of his jeans.

"Gabriel, you-"

"What were you two doing?" He takes in Balthazar's shirt tossed to the floor, my unbuttoned shorts, messy hair, and swollen lips. "I leave you alone to save those women and find this?"

"Listen, it's-"

I peak around Balthazar, growing a bit more courageous after buttoning my shorts. "It was my idea." Eyes narrow. I step to the side, closer to the archangel.

He takes two strides toward me, pure rage in his eyes. A naked back blocks my vision in a simple second. "Step down, brother."

His voice rumbles in my ears, "She's not your property, nor Crowley's. Stop acting like a catty child." The next sound is a grunt and a slam. Balthazar's body rests atop a broken coffee table, blood covering him, glass in his bare chest.

"You…you-" Gabriel towers over me again, catching my attention. I shiver under his accusing eyes, "You're just searching for love, aren't you!? Anywhere you can get it."

"I tried with you. I did. And then you left! You walked out on me that night. That was your fault. You're always trying to use me and leave me for when you're ready to play again. I'm not a toy, Gabriel!"

"I left because my wings came out. I was trying to protect you."

"Protect me!? From what!?"

"From this. From finding you bloody on the side of the road. From demons. From Crowley."

"Crowley has helped more than you have." Balthazar is standing as I speak, eyeing the glass in pain.

"Because you give him the chance to. This has been my job. My one job to keep you and that sleezeball away from one another. And I can't!"

"Gabriel..." Balthazar mumbles in a warning. It's then what he said sinks in.

"Your job? What are you talking-"

"It doesn't matter. It's apparently pointless."

I pause before asking, "Why is it so important to keep him and me apart?"

"Your nightmares have gotten better since you've been away, right?" His voice is sober now and his eyes cast downward. "I was told to separate the two of you. Higher orders. But he'll be here to collect you soon enough and we'll rip each other to shreds."

"Why do you have these orders?"

He shakes his head and steps away from the conversation. Escaping into the kitchen doesn't drive me away. I press again, but he pushes fingers roughly into my shoulders, "He's no good for you." I've heard this too many times recently and it's frustrating beyond belief. "I know more about you than you think."

"Really?" he raises his chin when I speak, "Then you'd know that I'm leaving."

I pass Balthazar who is picking the glass out still. One blink and he heals himself, slinging his shirt back on. Running up the steps, I hear Balthazar tell Gabriel to calm down. My bag is on the floor so I snatch it then shoulder it back down the stairs. The knife resides in my belt loop.

"Let her go." Balthazar huffs, blood dripping from his nose. The room is a mess, the two likely tussling. "She's not your property." He repeats this. Gabriel looks at me angrily. In this moment, Balthazar tosses him across the room then glances over his shoulder at me, "Get going, sweetheart."

That's all I need. Twenty steps to the car, keys jingling in my hand, and engine starting. The tires carry me away from the home, hoping they don't kill each other. Unconsciously I turn down toward the warehouse Crowley was at. It's burning as I pass it, Crowley nowhere to be seen. Disappointment sets deep in my skin. A part of me wanted to see him, to get the whole story. Why was he doing this? Was it truly just to get me off his mind or to feel superior? Whatever it is, I ache for him. Something is missing now that he's nowhere to be found. Though I'm angry, I miss him. It's as if I have cuts from him adorning my body and I cannot heal. The cells are regenerating, they're ready to close it up and let wounds scab over, but I keep picking and prodding at that empty **mess**…and I won't let it shut. I'm clinging to Crowley like he is my air, like he is my Point B.

I'm suddenly stricken with the knowledge that Gabriel can find me – anywhere. My hex bag won't work on archangels. Balthazar can't protect me any longer. I've never seen Gabriel's rage that strong. My only hope is Crowley, considering the Winchesters would like to join Gabe on his Sasha hunt. The radio is the only thing keeping me from driving off a cliff.

_I used to believe that all the absence of color_

_would make a difference to my red, red heart._

_But my perspective has changed since I drove you away,_

_But, baby, everybody's gotta move sometimes._


	25. Mamihlapinatapai

**A/N**: You guys are absolutely amazing! I'm loving all the comments and the follows as well as the favorites. I couldn't ask for better readers. So this one is for you. I was saving this big plot twist for a little later, but I was too excited to write it out. I hope you all enjoy. Oh, and here is the definition of the chapter title so you don't have to go searching for it:

**Mamihlapinatapai- **_A look shared by two people, each wishing that the other will offer something that they both desire but are unwilling to suggest or offer themselves._

* * *

Crowley

It had been three weeks since the warehouse incident, where that bloody angel burned it down and rescued the few wenches that lived. The way he looked at that pile of corpses made the experience that much better. Currently, Pseudomonarchia Daemonum lies idle on my desk considering my mind is elsewhere.

Three weeks since I'd seen Sash. Haven't heard from her or checked in. This leave of absence was supposed to clear my head. The only positive is the visions; they've been gone. After killing Beleth, I'm more powerful than ever before. The Winchesters still want to skin me alive, but I wish them luck. Finding me will be a haul.

"You can't go in there." Grayson? Curious.

There's slight shuffling outside the door, a grunt, and slam. "So help me, I'll skin you alive, you demonic garbage." Sasha, here, in my mansion once again? Wonders never cease. I'm half tempted to make an appearance, to snap her in here, press her to the chair, and question how she found me. But I believe I know. That angel Balthazar has likely been snooping for her. I make myself invisible when she bolts through the door.

It's interesting, her reaction. Anger sets deep in her eyes, her chest heaving. The way her fingers clench around that demon blade makes me smirk. The door slams on her way out. I'm satisfied, and yet so…not.

Four days pass before I see her again, like last time it's not on my own accord. She's figured out how to summon me; to an abandoned shack, no less. When she sees me, I smirk at her but it's short-lived. A devil trap. She's painted a damn devil trap on the floor.

"Surely you could've just called."

"Tried that. Now, what gives?" that blade is in her hands again, and there's an intensity in her eyes. "Almost a full month and I don't hear from you. You're plotting something, but what?" I don't answer, "And what about that warehouse?" she's happy to see me, alive. I can tell in how she looks at me. As much anger that consumes her, there's a soft bit of relief.

"Good to see you, too."

And just like that, she's in the trap with me, staring up with those big hazel eyes and I can't look elsewhere. It's then: flashes of red and silver cover my vision, a headache sprouting up. Her lips are on mine. In warning, I nip at her lower lip. The knife touches my back and unlike last time she threatened me, I'm unsure if she'd actually use it. I can taste her anger.

"Where have you been?" she whispers against my mouth. My eyes drop and she leaves the trap, careful not to scrape the paint.

With her back turned, I take in her tight black leggings and oversized grey shirt. I know that underneath it all is a tone, tight body. Need overcomes me once again. Just a simple taste of 'love making' and I'm consumed with the lust of a hormonal teenager. Those women with similar features did a piss-poor job of conquering this. None of them were the same. Fear, that's what they all shared. Sasha rarely fears me. The thought of her makes me hard. She turns just as I'm trying to shove my hands in my pockets. She sees. Pupils dilate.

"There's that stunning look." I quip, "Just as I'm used to."

"Touch it."

"Beg pardon?"

Two steps, "Unzip your goddamn pants and masturbate."

I'm in a fog; lust and frustration, but I don't move. She flips the blade inches from my face in a threat, "As you wish." The cold air makes me suck breath between my teeth when I pull my length out. This dominating stand she's taken is, surprisingly, sexy.

"Like you did before." I'm reminded of the bathroom back at the old mansion. Door closed fingers wrapped around myself after she'd teased me. She must have heard me.

"Like what you heard, now want to see?" the glare she shoots me excites me more. There's a pause and I stroke a few times, running my thumb over the tip and sighing at the pre-cum that spreads on my fingers. How I wish she'd just…- It's almost as if she's read my mind. One moment she's standing before me, the next she's on her knees. Cold hands cover my warm ones. "Let's pull up a chair, we'll-"

"You'll stand." She commands. My eyes narrow but I watch her take me in her mouth. A talented tongue dances across my corona, swirling slightly. Fingers twitch to be buried in her hair, gripping it tightly and directing her myself. But I don't. Instead, I widen my stance to balance myself then shove my hands into my suit pockets. The sensations that shoot through me are more intense than I'd imagined. Her head bobs quickly, fingers tightening around my shaft, soft lips trailing over my skin. The moan I release was not planned. She hums, creating a pleasurable chill to cover my vessel. "Crowley?" she whispers and I find it quite seductive. She gingerly stands, pressing kisses upwards until they reach my neck. I don't duck down to meet her mouth. "I want you."

That's all I need. Her shirt is ripped from her quickly, but she pulls back. She scratches off the paint then backs away and pulls out a chair. I sit, yanking her on top of me and meeting her lips. She pulls her bra off, tosses it to the floor, then rips at my jacket, loosens my tie, and unbuttons my shirt. We hold a gaze when she sends those articles to the floor. The tie is kept on and I'm wondering why until the sound of chains jingling distracts me and my left hand is shackled to the chair. Glancing, I notice the cuffs from before; when we hunted Beleth. I'm in the same position as I was weeks ago. One glare. She smirks.

"You little…" she presses a finger to my mouth, but I grab her wrist with my free hand.

"Trust me, Crowl: less fighting, more pleasure."

"Quite the opposite in my experience." I mutter but release her arm so she can remove her leggings and thong.

"Oh, right, those girls." She knows. Gabriel must have told her, "You can make them look like me all you want," she removes my shoes then pants and boxers. Hands press to my knees while she pushes herself up, "But, baby, none of them can compare to the real thing." No preparation, she sits herself on my shaft, shifts, and presses my length inside of her. My head goes back, eyes lolling closed and she takes the opportunity to kiss and bite at the flesh on my neck.

"You're correct." I inform her then meet her lips again. Oh, how right she was. None of those women felt, breathed, smelled, or moved like her. Half of them were killed before I jutted into them. Their reactions were…off-putting.

She wasn't afraid to touch me or claw at my flesh. She met me – thrust for thrust – and even challenged me. What other woman or demon could match me in such a way? For Satan's sake, the first time was rough and bloody! Even now, with one arm chained, she forces my free hand to her lower back. I dig my fingers into her skin and she simply groans at the pain.

Her hands are all over me; rubbing imaginary patterns into my naked chest, touching my cheek, wrapping around my neck. Now her hand pushes mine between us, pressing one finger to her clit. I get the idea and nod against her mouth. Sasha's thumb cuts off my breathing momentarily and a jolt of pleasure consumes me. I rub harder and faster.

If possible, she gets tighter around me. I've memorized her reaction just before an orgasm and this is it: jagged breaths, closed eyes, choppy thrusting, and a tightening in her naughty bits. I slow purposefully and just when I feel her start, I pull my fingers back and sit still. Bad choice. Her movements grew harder, rough, and _damn it_, it gets better when she yanks my tie and I choke. When she's finished, she opens her eyes and glares.

"Crowley…" it's a half moan, half curse and I'm enticed. Red flecks fill my vision. _Bollocks. Not. Now._

I cup her cheek with my free hand and pull her in. Best to ignore these moments. How else would I get by? Her wetness is dripping onto my thighs now. I'm almost at my peak. It's gone this far, might as well finish. But she pulls away. She's keen on my reaction and literally gets off of me. I'm bewildered and foggy-eyed. The key has been on her wrist this entire time. I must be losing my touch.

"What're you-"

"You tease me, why the fuck can't I tease you?" it's as if she's about to leave me, but she slides down on her knees before me. I'm in a haze. "You touch me at all, I stop. Got it?"

I nod, my head feeling heavy. My only thoughts are on my orgasm. I haven't felt pleased since last time. Just like that she's bobbing her head again, tasting her own juices and my precum. I twitch my fingers in eagerness and make a fist the moment before I explode in her mouth. There's a loud echo of a throaty moan and I realize too late that it's my own. How many times have I imagined this? I've lost count.

A 'thank you' is on my lips, but for what reason I'm unaware. This is not my modus operandi. Nonetheless, she unclasps my wrist and saunters off to dress. Chills cover my body, a sigh leaving my lips. I snap my clothes back on and fidget with my tie while Sasha collects her cuffs and blade then makes her way for the door.

"Where, exactly, do you think you're going?" my voice comes out gruff.

Her fingers twitch on the hilt of her blade, "You're telling me that you can up and walk out for a month, but I'm unable to do the same? Sounds like a double-standard."

"You could get killed."

"What about this past month? Couldn't I have gotten killed then?" she's fuming and it's somehow sexy, "but, oh, wait! I'm only an option when I fit into your schedule. Don't forget, Crowl, I'm a hunter."

Testing my luck, I pop up behind her. Her reflexes are on point. When I'm pushed into the wall, I'm shocked. The tip of her knife rests between my eyes.

"Don't think I'm oblivious. That angel, Balthazar, was in your corner. You were safe."

"No thanks to you! Sending demons after us, Crowley, really?"

"You were slumming it with Gabriel, don't think I don't know."

I watch a deep part of her flinch, fingers tempted to shift just the slightest bit; not a big enough wound to hurt, but just enough to prove a point. She doesn't.

"Actually, I denied him," She looks me dead in the eyes, "for you."

"Charming." I push her off me, tempted to zap out of there without her. "Now-" she interrupts me.

"I'm tired of this, you know." When I don't turn, she speaks up, "It's fucking ridiculous. I actually give a shit about you, and you try to control me like you're my boss. Sorry, but this time I'm not following orders. I won't come with you."

Such a frustrating little twat, always has been. "You'll follow me, if I have to drag you there myself." She's quick, but not enough so when she bolts out the door, I snap before her. A push and I stumble back, unprepared for her force. "Don't. Test. Me." I'm speaking against her neck when I wrap myself around her. The only way I know she'll stay is if I show her affection. Though I want nothing to do with this, I'm aware of the affect it will have. "Stay with me." Chills appear on her flesh.

"I can't." she runs her fingers down my arm and pulls away. "I'll see you when I see you."

"Why's that?" when she gets in her truck, I lean in the window and clasp my hands together.

She sighs after she starts the engine, "Crowley, what are you after?"

"Beg pardon?"

"What are you planning with Gamigin?" after she speaks, I stand back and slip my hands in my pockets. "I read that book, remember. You didn't answer me last time, but I'm sure it's something awful. If the Winchesters learned this, they'd be out for blood."

"So you're going to send them." It's a statement. I'm certain I know what she'll do.

"No. No. I just…I need to get my head on straight. I need to know if I'm gonna have your back on this one or not."

She speeds off before I get the chance to argue. Instead of zapping after her, my office fills my vision.

Sasha

The days pass me quickly once again. I'm constantly moving, as if staying in one place will cause some domino effect of evil and ugly. Getting back into the swing of things with hunting takes away my woes. Hours are spent in libraries, using wifi, researching hauntings and evil, killing the thing, and driving through the night.

Balthazar befriends me better. I call on him the moment I start worrying about Crowley, though I don't mention a thing about my suspicious. Crowley wants Purgatory, I can see it from the way his eyes glisten when I speak of it. Whatever it is the angels should not be informed; Balth included.

The two of us spend our time out at diners and the occasional movie. He tells me it's important to forget what I am frequently. Though it's a little dramatic, I can understand. Sometimes I feel the urge to cut all ties, from Crowley too. There are moments when I can't believe I've gone this far off the beaten path. Isn't it an unwritten rule that every hunter should despise demons?

Balthazar tells me time and time again that my life turned out the way it needed to, but I glare at him in envy. To own such simple faith is a concept I never knew. How I could put my faith in the hands of something I can't see – can't control – that's insanity. Sometimes I let my mind wander. What if he's right? What if I am exactly where I'm meant to be? He explains that he's very good friends with Fate, but I'm unsure if it's a literal or figurative statement.

When I'm alone, I distract my mind as much as possible. Balthazar stops coming around after a few weeks. Even when I pray to him, he doesn't show. So I eventually forget the movie nights and the laughs and surround myself with work. There are moments I'm desperate to contact Crowley, but my pride won't let me. I'm trying to prove a point that I can disappear just like he can. We both know it's untrue.

It's 9 at night when they show up. I'm sitting down to a wine cooler and some TV and the flapping of wings startles me. Two sets: Balthazar and Gabriel.

"What-"

"Surprisingly not my plan, sweetheart." Balthazar raises innocent hands. I nod and turn my attention to Gabriel. "He wants you to know why you're his job. We were originally instructed not to inform you of this, but apparently Gabriel finds these desperate times."

The shorter angel strides toward me, stops, then raises his hand to my forehead, "See."

I'm no longer in the room. One quick gaze around and I'm trapped in a nightmare. That blunt, wooden slab is stuck in my chest, blood trickling from wounds that tingle like ice on a summer afternoon. My vocal chords feel raw. Beyond all this, there is a sweaty hand in mine, fingers rubbing along my knuckles. I turn my head to look, just as I had before I'd woken last time. Now, it's different. My vision is clear along with my mind, and I'm in control unlike when I'm dreaming. Gabriel must have thrown me into my own nightmare. But why?

The man who holds my hand is strung up just as I am, chains dangling, cuffs on his wrist. He's thin, dark hair, dark eyes, soot covering his face, a reddened slap mark on his cheek, tears in his clothes where wounds adorn his body. Dried blood is caked across multiple stab and bullet wounds. A new cut rests beside his temple. What a mess; an awful, bloody mess, but I imagine he looks better than I. His reaching has cut the skin on his wrist, the cuff digging into a raw scab which makes me believe his reaching must happen often. When his eyebrows knit together and he looks me in the eyes, I understand. I'd know him anywhere.

"Crowley?"

Different vessel, different aura, but it's still him.

"Sasha. It's Fergus. Don't tell me they're abusing your mind, too." His accent is Scottish. _Fergus_. That was his name, his real name.

"Well, isn't this adorable? Love birds during mating season." Another man's voice booms. Fergus pulls his hand from mine. My insides are screaming. I'm scared, but I'm not. "Wouldn't mind watching that, actually. How 'bout it, kids?" he snaps and I'm falling far and fast. My eyes struggle to focus but there are many like us; strung up on chains digging into their shoulders, blood everywhere. The endless sky is red, steam rising from below us. This is Hell. "Well, let's get you two strapped in, hm?" I land painfully, the wooden slab being pulled from me by the man with the lisp. Something inside my mind tells me his name is Alistair and that I need to be afraid.

Fergus lies beside me, staring up defiantly at the man. My eyes wander to the millions of people strung up above us. Some so far, they look like stars. Blood drips around us, all from their wounds. I want to vomit.

"What do you want from us now, Alistair?"

"Real-live porno. Right here, right now! And…go." He sits in a sodden chair. We look at each other, "Oh, come on! We know all about it! You two chain-neighbors befriending one-another. Laughing, picking each other up after your separate sessions with me. I know it all. So, sexual tension or something more? This is your chance to have each other. Go."

My mind reels. So, this is it? Crowley and I met in Hell? What was I doing here? How long ago was this? Why do I have no memory of it?

Breathing hurts. This wound is throbbing but I try to slow my gasping down. That fall should have given me a heart attack. Fergus pulls himself toward me, touching gingerly at my wounded chest.

"Sasha, it'll be ok." He mumbles to me before planting a kiss to my lips.

I'm feeling skittish, frightened. The words leave my mouth before I think of them, my own voice holding a vague accent, "I will not touch you while he watches."

Alistair becomes enraged. "Your defiance is unbecoming. One too many slips of the tongue, young lady. You don't have another chance!" I'm pulled to my feet, dragged down a corridor, and strapped onto a lab table, the leather fastenings tightened around my breasts and my hips. The metal is burning from heat, my now-bare body stinging. Alistair raises a blade with a smirk and I scream out when he begins cutting off my fingers one by one.

Just as soon as it started, it ends. I'm returned to the motel room, Gabriel and Balthazar watching me intently. Both share similar fearful expressions.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Those nightmares you've been having? They're memories." Gabriel settles me on my bed. I hadn't realized until he views my hands that I'm shaking. "You were in Hell long ago, the same time Crowley was. Then, he was still human by the name of Fergus McLeod. He made a crossroad's deal and was taken ten years later."

"What about me?"

He sighs, "You were defending family. Your brother from that life had debts that he couldn't pay. The guys beat his ass and you couldn't stand it. Ya went out one night, found the one who went five rounds with your brother, and shot him point-blank. Cold blood. You hid the body for the next day. Cut him up into little pieces and burned him in the fireplace. No one suspected it was you. The next day you'd burn the clothes, but the others your brother owed broke in and killed you as a reminder to your brother that they meant business. You went to Hell."

"Not good enough for Heaven?" I don't believe a word of it.

"You were supposed to go to Heaven, but temptation of defending your brother got the best of you. This was not meant to be." He ran a hand through his hair, "You and Fergus met, clung to each other because you needed the companionship, and so began this whole thing." My brain is once again spinning, "Your torture began. You held up for years, but soon you had it. They used a leverage you hadn't expected and you gave yourself to them for twice the torture. Sasha, they carved out your humanity on the rack."

"If this is true, how am I here now?"

He straightens, "The angels were sent to rescue you. We were aware of what the next step was. Fergus was losing faith every time you came back a little less human. He saw it and gave up, too. By the time we got there, we were too late. Your demonic soul had been created. We fought for days and finally got to you. Taking out that soul and trying to replace it was difficult but doable. We were performing God's work, after all. My father was foolish. He thought that you would be able to return to Earth or go to Heaven, but your soul was broken. We sent you back to Earth, creating you in your mother's womb. Your demonic soul was sent out of Hell and Heaven." His eyes gaze lazily over at Balthazar and I know he's hiding something. "We found a family who was trying to conceive. Put the idea in their head of keeping your same name from your previous life. You had similar features and we made sure your parents were hunters so you would be raised to be on the good side. When you were born, we wiped all memory of your past life, to be sure. This was one of my last missions before I cut away from my family."

"So my parents aren't really my parents?"

"Your mother did give birth to you. They raised you and all the memories of this life are absolutely true." Balthazar assures.

"And Fergus was," I search for the right words, "cut and turned into Crowley?"

"Yes."

"What was my demonic name?"

"You were at the young stages and hadn't been given a name yet. We got there just in time to pull you from that."

"Technically I was the reason he turned then. If I hadn't broken, we'd still be in Hell now."

Balth interjects, "He would have broken eventually. You just sped up that process. Without a thing in the world keeping him together, he fell apart."

"Don't you dare take the blame for him. Fergus knew what he was getting himself into the moment he made that deal." I lose eye contact to gaze at the demon warding on the windows.

"But I am the one who drove him to do that. It's my job to take whatever steps need to be done from here."

"This is why you need to stay away from him. We aren't aware if he knows any of this. If he does, this was his whole game plan."

"What?"

"A king needs a queen. This has been his plan all along." Gabriel's voice is firm and agitated.

"So you assume. Crowley could be as oblivious as I was. He was human at the time still, correct? He wouldn't have many memories anyway."

"Come with us. We can take you someplace safe and locked up." I take note on how he hadn't answered me.

"Like a caged animal." I state, "I'm not a zoo exhibit."

"You can have whatever you like." His eyes are pleading; Balthazar just stands idle, eyes faded.

"Yeah, chocolate cake the size of an oven and a muscled man every once in a while to fulfill the needs Crowley did. You think that's what this is about, huh? Something pure physical is what you're assuming."

"And you're suggesting otherwise?"

"It's so much more than that. Crowley saved my life. Crowley had been here more than you have. You left me alone in a hotel room to leave passed women in formal gowns, mink coats." We've needed to discuss this for far too long.

"My wings came out!"

"Oh, yeah, that's right. If you would have just showed me then, things might be different now. It's like that children's story of the boy who cried wolf. You make these alternate realities constantly, throw the boys and I into them, make me believe you're dead, and now expect me to trust that I have a demonic soul that's MIA. How can I believe you? It seems a little too perfect that Crowley is the bad guy, so you're trying to inform me. You know what, I'm leaving."

"Where to? Right back to him?"

"And if I do? This is my choice. You were brought here to drag me up to heaven, huh? What gives you the right?"

"Crowley isn't good for you."

"So you've said."

"How do you know the night you claim he saved your life he wasn't planning for this? How do you know that he just stumbled across you? Has it crossed your mind that he's known this whole time and had you pegged from the get-go?"

"I would have known. We don't hide things from each other."

"You never told him about your nightmares."

I pause and take a breath, "Did you ever notice that every conversation we have consists of fighting? I have." I again make my way for the door and this time succeed with my bag slung over my shoulder, my things packed early this afternoon.

By the time I check out and leave, they're gone as well. A hex bag won't help against Gabriel, but I use one anyway. The nearest grassy field, I stop and call for Crowley. He doesn't come. When I manage to pit stop again I try summoning him in the gas station bathroom. This should work every time. He has to come when someone summons him. But he doesn't. Suddenly I'm aware that he wouldn't come if someone else got to him first.

So I race to my truck. The last mansion he was in is about three hours from where I am. I make it in two and a half.

My feet carry me up the stairs and to the door. I'm tempted to break a window, but a demon stands guard at the door instead.

"Sasha, what a pleasant surprise." I don't know his name, but it sure as hell isn't pleasant to see him. He's a foot and a half taller than me.

"I need to see Crowley. Is he here?" I'm surprised when I catch myself holding my breath.

"Yes, but he's just been with another guest. I'll see to it he's aware his whore stopped by too." Another guest?

Maybe it's his insult or the fact that I desperately need to know the angels didn't get to him, but I knee him in the crotch and press the knife to his neck.

"Darling, that isn't necessary." At his voice, I straighten and sheath the knife, "Please, come in."

The décor hasn't changed since I was last here, but more and more demons are working here now. They eye me suspiciously, but I step closer to Crowley. He notices my unease and presses a hand into my back, leading me to the study.

When the doors are closed I speak, "There's something I need to tell you."

"And I, you." He grabs two glasses, sets them on the desk, and grabs two different bottles. "I've taken the liberty of buying your brand. Hope you don't mind." He pours his Craig and my Root, swirls the glasses, then hands mine to me, "Now-"

"Who was your visitor earlier?" when he leans against his desk, he motions for me to sit. I do.

"Meg," takes a drink, "wanted to trade information for a hellhound."

"You do that?"

"I can. Especially when said information involves yours truly." He avoids my eyes, "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"That's funny, I was told something about myself today, too." I smell the wine then sip it.

"I know." We meet gazes but he looks at my glass, "Meg informed me of talk on angel radio. Apparently she's captured one of the flying rats. Tortured him until he told her juicy deats. You're all the rage up there, ducky. Gabriel decided to tell you things only the angels and few demons knew." He drinks again, "Apparently our memories were erased, and you've been through – well – Hell."

"So you know."

"Just informed. Believe me, you'd have been aware had I known. Something to this extreme should never have been hidden from you."

"And you turned demon after…"

"After they used creative leverage on you."

"What was it? They didn't say."

"Your grandfather. He was there. Tortured him in front of you unless you agreed to twice the time on the rack. And you did."

"Do you remember this? They sent me into my nightmares." I swallowed down my wine and Crowley stood for the bottle.

As he poured he told me, "It was your eyes that triggered me. The memories wanted to seep in but I distracted myself every time. After I'd been informed, I let the splotches of red in the corners of my vision take over and saw everything." He sets the bottle down and sits in his chair across from me. "For some reason your eyes were extremely hopeful. Even after the torture. To this day, I haven't seen that. I've tortured and they always leave in pain, not defiance as you had." He paused, "Hell tore away every memory of Fergus. I'd just known the name and the reason I sold my soul. Now, I see my time in Hell. Torture, burning flesh, feeling less human every day, and you." Now he meets my eyes, "Heaven assumed all was well until I came to power. Now, they know I'm a threat. So they sent Gabriel. You know, you're meant to fall in love with him." My cheeks heat up.

"If I choose him, Heaven will win." I mumble but Crowley hears it. He scoffs then finishes off his Craig. "So what made you turn?"

Surprised by my question, he collects himself then speaks, "I was human still, waiting for your return every day. Torture once a day we laughed off. We talked. We were friends. The two-a-days started. Every time you were strung back up beside me, your eyes lost a little of their light. You spoke a little less. I'd hear your screaming from below. We all could. The others would stare at me, they knew what was coming next. One day, your eyes were brown, the following, black. You started laughing at their slicing."

"And you couldn't take it." It's interesting to hear Crowley talk like this. It's been ages since we've had a chat over alcohol.

"Hardly. You were all I held on to. So I caved. Why live a lifetime of torture if I could be powerful and admired?"

I finish my second glass and raise glazed eyes to him. He's biting his lip, deep in thought. My head aches. It's been a long day, a long life. Everything seems so unreal. There's so much more to me than I ever knew. Gabriel was telling the truth. This isn't just some dream or an alternate universe. It's real and it's terrifying. What am I supposed to do? Do I sit down and off myself then hope for the best?

"C'mere." His words startle me, but I follow orders. He pulls me on his lap, trails finger down my spine, and then kisses me gently. "It's been a long day. There's a bed made up for you down the hall if you prefer to be alone. Nothing will be set in stone yet, love."

"Do you know where my demonic soul is?" I whisper near his ear.

"I've a hunch." He searches for any kind of reaction, but I give him none.

My initial instinct is to run. I don't. I wish to rest my head on his shoulder and stop my breathing. A sick part of me wants none of this. If I choose the angel's side, I'll lose Crowley forever. If I follow Crowley into whatever corridor he searches, it's likely I'll turn into something I never dreamed of. The Winchesters would want my head on a pike.

"If any demon besides you comes in my room, I'm killing them." I announce when standing. Sadly, I resort to coping mechanisms from my younger years: humor, anger, and avoidance.

"Wouldn't want it any other way."

"Goodnight, Crowley."

He doesn't answer, but we share a silent stare that clears my mind, even for the slightest moment.


	26. Moonfoam and Silver

**A/N: I'd really like to thank each and every one of you. I've been super stressed with university lately, but I took all day to finish this update. A fan messaged me on Tumblr and asked about when I'm planning on updating. Whoever that anon was, this is for you. You really made me get off my lazy ass and complete this chapter. I hope y'all enjoy it and comment!**

**Is everyone ready for season 9!? Woo!**

**By the way, I'm really considering starting something up on my Tumblr. If anyone sends me an ask on there about this fic, I might start posting little sneak peeks or snippets of the next chapter. If anyone's interested, my Tumblr link is on my profile. I follow back ;).**

**Ok, enough of my blabbing, onto the chapter!**

* * *

A week passes at Crowley's. I'm basically his special guest – ball and chain detached. Whenever I need food, the cooks will make whatever I desire. I'm allowed to leave my room whenever I want and Crowley doesn't question it. Instead, he assigns a demon to watch my every move and block my exit from the mansion. He's protective of me, I'm aware, but without all freedoms I'm basically losing my mind. With Gabriel, he assured me I'd be taken care of, but I would be a prisoner. How was this much different? I can't leave.

When my door bursts open, my hand fumbles for the knife on the nightstand.

"Fucking ridiculous." It's Crowley and I sigh, relieved but also concerned, "You'd think he'd know this is no place for him."

"Crowl, wha-"

He doesn't stop, "Decidedly not. He pounds right on that door, can't pop his winged ass in here, and asks for me. As if it's a typical, friendly, damn visit." I stand now, hoping he'll quiet, but he doesn't, "Almost tore his larynx out before he spoke." When I close the door, he turns to me. My legs carry me toward him, hands grabbing his shoulders and feeling how tense they are. He pushes me off when I remove his jacket, but I glare and work on his tie without shifting my gaze.

Though tempted to discuss my concerns with him, I realize even annoyed company can be good company, "You can tell me all about it, but first, get on the bed. And take your shirt off." At this he smirks and loses the shirt. I rest in his lap and trail my fingers down his cheek, noting the scratchy stubble. We kiss softly, slowly but I want to make him feel better. "Lie down." I mumble between kisses. He does, expecting something else, but I try to turn him over. It creates a wrestling match which he wins easily.

"Gotta admit, this is all too good." He presses his hips into my thigh so I can feel him, hard and ready.

I attempt to move, but he pins me harder, "Do you want a massage or not?" it takes him a moment before he gets up, sits there and stares, "What?"

"Can't just lie down on it," he points down, "you could always get under me."

When I push him down, he groans and cusses in another language. I sit on his ass, beginning to massage his tense shoulders. In another life I imagine myself working a typical 9-5 job, cashing paychecks at the bank, returning to a beautiful house. Massage therapy, maybe that would have been my calling. Crowley seems to be enjoying the way my hands rub tension and stress from his back.

"What I got from your ranting was that Gabriel showed up today."

"Mmm." He mumbles in acknowledgment, "S'what happened." He shifts to sit up, but one press of my wrist into him and he stills, "Wanted me to hand you over kindly, spoke 'bout how it was in my best interest, they'd keep you safe."

"So what'd you say?"

"'Sod off'." At this he chuckles, "Should've seen the look on his face, Sash." This feels almost domesticated. My mind wanders to that alternate reality where I come home to Crowley nursing a bottle of whiskey, massage his shoulders and talk about old boyfriends. Dreaming is dangerous. Even letting my mind wander for a matter of seconds supplies me with a happiness I'll never taste. Normality. My life just got all the more complicated 168 hours ago. No wonder I'm using these as temporary escapes from my reality.

It's all torn from under me in seconds. Thundering knocks at the door break through this faulty universe in my head; Crowley shoves me off then slips on his dress shirt. If this were a TV drama, I'd be wide-eyed and tearful as he dresses and pitifully attempts to hide me from his wife. Thankfully, no wife; just a demon outside the door, informing him of a business call.

"Don't go." I find myself whispering to deaf ears.

The door slams without even giving me the chance to see him buttoning his shirt. His tie remains beside me on the floor. The walls start closing in around me. I imagine them shrinking in so tightly, snapping my bones, my spine, until I'm shattered pieces on the floor. What a mess Crowley would return to. But none of this is real; my imagination is taking over, allowing me some form of entertainment. I eagerly accept it and watch with unblinking eyes.

Sleep consumes me more than ever before. Maybe it's a rut of depression, maybe it's boredom. I'm not allowed in the library anymore. I'd questioned about _Pseudomonarchia Daemonum _last time I was there. Apparently that was off-limits.

Every day, I push my luck. What started as wandering around and trying to lose my demon guard turned into sneaking out late at night. I'm making up for lost time when I was a teenager; hunting instead of sneaking out with boys. Often locked doors were picked open, revealing empty rooms. My excitement drops as soon as it's uncovered, much like my mood when realization struck; Crowley had lied. Gabriel and Crowley both planned to keep me captive as long as they saw fit. Every opportunity I had to meet with my capture, he was busy or "out". To be honest, I was getting fucking tired of waiting, so making my appearance in Crowley's office after three weeks stuck in that ward was much-anticipated.

I kill a guard. She wouldn't let me enter his office, so I stabbed her in the eye. Have I mentioned how hostile I am? Well, I'm hostile – currently.

"Afternoon," he greets, standing from him chair. "Please, sit." When I do, he pours me a glass of wine. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I am prisoner here, too," I blurt furiously. He merely raises an eyebrow and closes his mouth, "Gabriel at least had the balls to admit it. You just hid it until I was good and stuck here."

"Please. Your stay is sufficiently-"

"-strained!" my hands ball into fists, "I'm only alone in the shower, and even this morning you-"

His chuckle and cheeky smirk cut me off. I'm reminded of his rough hands holding me up against the steamed wall, his shoulder in my mouth. Heat rises to my cheeks.

"That's all this is? Some elaborate Broadway show – the apex being the killing of my guards – simply to demand freedom." My eyes travel to the papers on his desk, the pen sitting uncapped before him. He notices and covers the documents with his forearms. We lock eyes once again, "Fine." He sips his Craig while I wonder what he's hiding and ponder if he's only allowing me free reign so I won't pester him in the coming weeks. Nonetheless, I've won. "Should you leave the premises, you'll be required an escort." He seems set on this concept so I drop it and down my drink.

"Thank you."

"Off you go." He grunts, not looking up at me when I stand. His chubby fingers grasp the pen, he presses it to his lip, and I turn to leave. "I'm nothing like him, you know." I'm in the threshold when these words meet my eardrums. I repeat them in my head before turning back. There's something in his eyes, distant, but there. It's alluring. A sudden reminder of Fergus flashes across my vision. My senses are temporarily blurred. Poor, quivering, Fergus. There's no sign of him lying in Crowley typically, but these fleeting moments give me a peek behind the curtain. When I turn to leave, I try to shut the comparison in the door and walk proudly to the library, but a weight settles itself between my shoulder blades. It feels familiar. It feels guilty.

It's only when we're occupied that time flies. I've established myself in Crowley's oversized reading chair by the fireplace, my eyes quickly scanning over page after page.

"'Quiet minds cannot be perplexed or frightened but go on in fortune or misfortune at their own private pace, like a clock during a thunderstorm. '" his voice makes me jump, but I recognize the quote from a few pages before. "_Jekyll & Hyde_, hm? Interesting choice."

"One of my favorites."

He saunters from the doorway to the armchair, "Noted. That says something about you." We sit in silence for a while and when I gaze up, he's tiredly rubbing above his eye. Black ink covers his palm. "Pen exploded." He voices, aware of my quizzical staring. That pen…what was he writing down? "'You start a question, and it's like starting a stone. You sit quietly on the top of a hill," he pauses.

"'-and away the stone goes, starting others...'" I finish. He's aware of my curiosity. Of course he is. What else do I have to contemplate in this less-than-vacation house?

He stands, offers me his ink-less hand, "Come to bed." The gentle pull on my fingers when he raises me to my feet is calming. The book is left on the chair while the demon leads me down the hall. He pauses by the stairs and butterflies shoot through my stomach. Was he taking us to his room this time? I'm crashing back to reality when he pushes on toward 'my' room instead. I remove my jeans and crawl under the bedcovers. The darkness shields me from his eyes, but he's beside me in moments, lips on mine. His teeth nip lightly at my lower lip, hand resting at my cheek. It's gentle, kind.

"Sir?" comes a voice at the door. I almost groan aloud. The few moments I have with him are interrupted. I was hoping for a ground-breaking moment, something that would determine which side I choose. Even a simple statement that he cares for me.

Maybe he's never told me, maybe I never listened. Maybe I don't remember. And when he enfolds me in his arms, braces me against the room's chill, I'm aware. I'm aware of being hooked back in by my Trapezius muscle, dangling above bodies of others, dancing hellfire. His thumb tickling across my hand – rough and bloody – but comforting. These memories flood back and leave my palms sweaty. He mumbles about how he'll be back, but I know he's lying.

When the door closes again, I try to sleep. For an hour, I wait. Nothing. So I slide my legs back in my jeans, slip on socks and shoes, and creep out the door. A blur passes my gaze and as quick as it takes to blink, the night air is taken from my lungs. The fluorescent lights of a warehouse room fill my vision. The stench of alcohol overcomes my nostrils.

"Ya know, all this time here, I've learned which drink combinations can make me…feel something." Gabriel towers over me. He pushes into my shoulder and I'm pressed against the wall. Everything I've ever imagined us doing comes flowing back to my mind. My cheeks heat up and I look anywhere but his lips. "You've missed me."

"Whatever gets you through the night."

That's it. I close my eyes as he inches closer. My fingers clench tightly in a fist, digging my nails into my palm. His breath is on my face. Our lips touch simply once before he pulls back. My eyes shoot open. A loud grunt echoes through my ears and Crowley stands before me, above Gabriel who he's just knocked to the ground.

"You nasty twat. How dare you show your winged ass back here."

Gabriel's standing once again, breathing heavily and wiping blood from his nose. "What do you think this is? She's not your property." He quotes Balthazar's words sloppily.

"More mine than yours, mate. Nice one, by the way, threating to lock her up. Shouldn't have expected anything less than failure on your part. You are an angel, after all."

Crowley is lifted by his collar and slammed against the wall. Chunks of it fall to the floor.

"I'm going to destroy you." Gabriel is tipsy, "and she's not gonna be leavin' with ya tonight either."

The demon's face shifts from shock to humor, "Really? Ask against how many times she's chosen me over you." He laughs, "Charming."

I step toward them, unsure of what to do. Finally, my mind clears and I raise my hand to Gabriel's arm. He pulls back and sends a punch to Crowley's face. The demon doesn't grunt, just stares are the angel. By now, I'm furious. This is childish and pointless. After a few pleading words, I shimmy my body between the two of them. Gabriel's chest now pressed to mine, Crowley's belly against my back.

"Stop." I speak simply.

"Oh! I see how it is." Gabriel backs away, letting Crowley lean against the dented wall. I don't move my body from against his nor does he push me away. "We're all aware of how hot and bothered this wanna-be gets you." With a snap of his fingers, Crowley is strung up to the wall again, but by an invisible force this time. My hands are cuffed to a chair; I sit on the cold metal and grimace. I'd never seen Gabriel's eyes such a dark shade of brown. "I figure 'ya can't beat 'em, join 'em.' Right?" he snaps a knife in his hand. "Something about this demon makes you wet between the thighs. So I'm gonna carve it outta you. Good plan?"

"You wouldn't." Crowley grunts, straining against Gabriel's powers.

He makes placid cuts in my shirt, slicing off one of my tank straps, "Oh, I will." After a few more cuts at my clothes, he meets my fierce gaze, "When all this started, it was just an order from daddy. Why bother, right? But after all the shit I did, this was going to be my redemption!" his voice crescendos through the sentence. "I was informed to," he clears his throat, straightens, raises his chin, and quotes his order, "'You must go to Sasha. Avert her from negativity.' What the fuck, right?" he laughs boisterously. "And this whole time I figured I was winning." He cuts my shoulder quickly. I wince. "But then I realized: we fight. A lot." He slices at my chest now, making a deep slit above my left breast. "We rarely get along."

"Oh, God…" Crowley is heard just a few feet away, annoyance seeping from his tongue.

"And then!" Gabriel raises his voice, "then I saw how often you ran to demon-boy over there, and I figured we needed to rid the equation of him." His eyes are not only dark, but glazed. Instead I focus on the silver knife and how my blood looks on it. "For some reason, he outweighs me in your mind." He pauses, "and in reality. Puttin on the pounds there, huh, big boy?" The knife is stabbed slowly into my forearm. I don't look away from him when my body tenses. I don't scream. I merely breathe.

"You done now?" I was putting up a front.

The answer isn't verbal. Instead, the blade is launched toward my thigh and this time I can't help but scream when he gouges into my flesh. The noise sounds clean – even – as if gutting a fish. Thick blood seeps through the cuts, I wonder if he's cut veins. Will he heal me when he's done playing with me? Crowley is fuming. His grunts assure me he's trying to break away.

"Having fun watching this, big boy?" Gabriel calls to him, "Not done." He lifts my chin with the knife, a new glint in his eyes, "Lately I've questioned those orders. Maybe Crowley isn't the one that's negative. Maybe, it's me." He pushes the knife to my left thigh this time, "So, you test out a theory; this is my testing. Maybe I'm right. Stoop so low, barely seeing straight." His laugh smells way too much like tequila. "Angels aren't as holy as you think." He answers my thoughts before driving the shining silver into me again. I'm sweating and aching. The blood is dripping down the backs of my thighs and pooling around my feet. I can feel my heartbeat in my wounds and I've bit through my lower lip. Gabriel is distracted by my lips and Crowley takes this time to overcome his power, ripping himself from the wall.

Gabriel, now taken aback, is hurdled into the wall, pieces of it crumbling around him this time. Crowley snaps an angel blade into his hand the instant he shatters off my cuffs. Angel wings are faster than my legs, but I attempt escape anyway while the two tussle. It's difficult to run with the soreness in my thighs. I hobble as quickly as possible, tripping once or twice. Though I'm concerned about how this fight will end, I know Crowley is furious; and a furious Crowley is a powerful Crowley.

At the side of the road, I thumb for a ride – something my father warned me against. "Walk if you must" he'd say. Last time I'd entered a vehicle in this position, I was almost killed. This time, a woman stops. I ask in a soft voice for her to take me to the nearest gas station. We ride in almost complete silence – save Katy Perry on the radio and I cover my bleeding thighs with my hands. The dripping from my wounded chest is seeping into my bra, but I don't bother wiping it to hide anything. My shoulder drips too along with the gouge in my forearm. It looks like I've gone twelve rounds with a Ninja Turtle. The woman asks if there's something she can help with, but I refuse and when we arrive, I stand and watch until she speeds off. No doubt I'm an interesting story she'll tell the other soccer moms. No doubt she's happy I've exited the car. She won't pick up any more hitchhikers anymore. Off in the distance I see the light inside her van turn on, most likely checking her seats for bloodstains. I turn on my heels, facing the trees.

One glance around and I know where I am. My legs carry me slowly out of the parking lot, through the brush. Branches gash open more parts of me, but I'm here. I'm finally back to where it all started: where my dad offered me a way out of this life and I didn't take it. We'd come back to Portland often just to stargaze. Then, I'd have followed him anywhere. You could have handed me a map of the oceans, supplied me with sails – every means to explore on my own – and I'd have turned to him, wide-eyed and happy, and asked, "Daddy, where to?"

We'd make up stories for the stars, the constellations. We'd pretend they were all part of one, big family. As I got older, my father would share stories of his own imaginings. He'd whisper of loved ones lost, so powerful in one's life, that they'd get their own star. _Each star is as original as a fingerprint._ He'd wrap his pinky in mine and say, _It's a sign. Our loved ones never leave us. So many stars in the sky, so many mourning families. There will never be a time when there's a starless night. Sometimes we don't see the rest, because we're so focused on one._ He'd point to the brightest blue star, whispering my grandfather's name.

There are three stars I can see tonight, "Evening mom, dad, grandpa." The tears in my jeans seep crimson. I remove my shoes, socks, and throw my lower half into the lake. The water is likely unhelpful to my cuts, I can feel them tingling, but there's nowhere else I'd rather be.

There is a feeling of angel feathers across my cheek. Is there a word for how delicately someone brushes tears from my lashes? How about a mix of shock, anger, relief, and fear? There should be. If there were, it would describe the look on Balthazar's face.

We don't speak. I'm busy counting the beats of my heart, hearing how hurried it remains. He leans down to heal my wounds, but I stir away, letting the water ripple around me. He straightens and I feel his eyes analyzing me as if I were an injured animal.

There's another presence. Crowley. I can smell him along with a hint of blood. Balthazar is unmoving. Crickets sing around us, fireflies flickering in the clearing, and Crowley takes two steps forward. Minutes pass us, the demon shifting from foot to foot once every few beats. There's hesitation when Balthazar leaves, the flitting of wings startling the crickets. Crowley takes his place, sitting beside me instead.

His eyes linger on my thighs dipped in the water, and he moves a hand to touch them then freezes. I don't want any contact and he senses that. I notice before he places his hands in his lap, the palms that had been covered in ink hours ago are now sheathed in blood. Tired eyes view the cuts across his cheeks, the red flowing from his nostril, the slashes through his suit. He lies on his back, gazing at my grandfather's star. I'm feeling protective, guarded, as if he's inserting himself into the deepest roots of my family history. But, they're not really my family. Yes, my mother carried me, but my ancestry was not the same. My most intimate relationships had been a lie.

When I peek over at him, his pupils are fixated on me. I observe a long, drying gash of crimson across his neck, deep, pulsing, and reach for it. His hand grabs mine vigorously, curtly…so Crowley. Fergus is a lost memory, but I feel him as his thumb glides across my knuckles, preparing me for war.

These silent realizations strike me more brutally than Gabriel had.

He kisses me then and I taste the blood on his tongue. Delicate laps along my lower lip give me chills until he breaks it, presses his forehead to mine, and breathes heavily.

"For him to take up torture and use it to mock me," the silence is interrupted but he follows it with the most subtle breath, "I don't want to see you like that again." When he pulls away, I feel his fingers on my thigh. "I could fix those."

"No." I answer abruptly. The glance he shares with me is pitiful, "I want to be reminded of what he's capable of."

It's silent for a long time. Not much can be said, but I wonder if Crowley killed Gabriel. The pure hate in his eyes when I left convinced me both wouldn't leave alive. And here Crowley stands.

"I'm capable of it, too." His words send me off-balance. "Why aren't you reminding yourself of that?" Of all the years I've known Crowley, this is the first time I've seen him honestly aching for comfort.

Taking in his image, I realize this is the most broken state we've both been in. Even after fighting off a hive of demons we were both tattered and blistered, but we laughed it off. We slammed back alcohol, cleaned our wounds, and went about our night. Now, things are more complicated. I'm without the Winchesters, without any human contact. Crowley is without a friend, working his way up the ladder. Heaven and Hell are both on my heels and I'm being forced to make a choice. But hasn't my mind always been made up? Even before I was aware of Gabriel's true colors, there were arguments. Crowley has had my back since day one, and though I've been curious I've never questioned his loyalty. Now I know. It must have been my essence.

Pulling my wet legs from the water, I grab the knife in Crowley's pocket and hack off the legs of my jeans, leaving the length just above my newest wounds. The blood has slowed but I feel woozy. Without thinking, I plant myself on Crowley's lap. He straightens, carefully places his hands on my hips to steady me. Staring into his eyes, it's clear.

I kiss him hard and we return to the mansion. I'm dizzy once again when he insists upon cleaning and wrapping my wounds – even though I refuse to let him heal them. I remember rough kisses after that, opening my eyes to his ceiling, his bedroom. He's unbuttoning his shirt while I scan the room. There's a fireplace, burgundy curtains, plush couches, and exquisite trinkets. I'm suddenly distracted by how he looks shirtless in fire-light. A smirk lifts his features at my curiosity.

Though today has been a blur, this is clear as crystal. He removes my clothes gingerly, lifts my leg over his shoulder, shifts off his boxers, and slides into me.

This time together is spent sweetly; gentle touches, shifting his weight so as not to put pressure on my aching thighs, light pulls of my hair, and kisses. All I can hear is the crackling of the fireplace, slight rustling of the sheets, a few shaky breaths, and our hearts beating. Though he hides it well, I can tell he's antsy to move quicker. So I urge him on, testing my own theory as Gabriel would have said. I want to see his breaking point. Can he keep this façade of pure gentility, or will his demonic side take over?

"Not this time, kitten." He croons in my ear then proceeds to kiss down my torso.

Some moments he has to steady himself, he closes his eyes and I watch his lip twitch ever so slightly. It's humorous, but there's an overall sense of security. Pleasure covers my senses, sheathing my fears and overactive thoughts. My peak is powerful, leaving me gasping and nipping at his shoulder. His fingers do dig into me when he climaxes, but I am otherwise unharmed.

I lay next to Crowl now, my soft leg on his, trailing up, up to my hip bone resting on his. My bare breast is uncovered, the thin layer of blanket not having reached to conceal my pert nipple, and me being too lazy to raise it. Long fingers play with Crowley's slight coating of chest hair, the other hand cradling my head on the pillow. The demon breathes evenly, eyes closed but it's been too soon after our romp for him to nod off. I gaze up at him once, viewing the way his arms are arched behind his head, against the cushioned headboard. He looks so regal, so powerful in these moments and my insides scream for me to speak. I swallow down my fear.

"I've been thinking about destiny." He opens his eyes and I watch the pupils abate. Within a heartbeat he's no longer relaxed. He pulls my arm when he sits up. I'm once again atop him, straddling thick thighs. We don't lose eye contact, "I'm about 90 feet from crossing waters I've been warned of all my life."

His reply is simple, "come closer."


	27. Aloha 'Oe

Cold, marble floor pounds against my bare feet. The wall holds me upright when I suddenly halt, absentmindedly leaning forward and closer to where Crowley stands six feet away discussing something with a demon. It's almost like the scene from one of those old Christmas commercials: a wide-eyed girl peeking to catch a glimpse at Santa Clause, only I'm holding my breath for news and not a fictitious intruder. Not good news, nor earth-shattering news; for my mind still hasn't settled from the way it's been spinning. Crowley can feel me in the room now, but he makes no gesture for me to step forward, as he has for the past three weeks.

Tonight is different.

"Thank you, now back to your post," tapping dress shoes sound completely different from the padding of bare feet on marble flooring. He doesn't raise my chin with the index finger of his right hand, rough and work-worn. He doesn't press me to the wall with a promise of more information tomorrow and then capture my lips with his. He doesn't quietly analyze my reaction when the information is sparse or when it's voluminous. The routine I've grown accustomed to is broken. "Well," he finally speaks, "'at's it. He's done." I can't place his tone, so I meet eyes with him. His features are relaxed, but there's giddiness in his eyes. A part of me expected this. "Are you…-"

"I want to see."

He's taken aback, "Viewing a corpse? Really, darling I'd have expected-" my stern gaze silences him. Near the front door I slide on my shoes and turn to find him behind me. "It's not going to be a pretty sight. Lucifer was there. This may be more bloodshed than your young eyes have experienced."

"Now." One word and he nods. A snap and we're taken to the hotel; quite the fancy place for the Winchesters to go. Thunder cracks, lightening illuminating the dark entrance. Crowley stands strongly, hands shoved into pockets which I reach into. He pulls away his hand, staring at me with annoyance written across his face. When I pull the knife from his pocket, he loosens his shoulders. "We're not here to hold hands and sing campfire songs, nimrod."

The way his lips purse, bottom lip sticks slightly farther out, eyebrows scrunch together, with a simple shrug of the shoulder would be humorous had there not been a loud thud from down the hall. There's a small humming tickling my eardrums while Crowley breathes evenly before taking a single step forward. My arm juts out too late: his step makes a sound. Whoever it is knows we're here. It's suddenly cold. The footfalls approach down the hall but Crowley is unmoving. I hiss his name and he squints his eyes at me. The steps silence. A chill rides up my spine.

"I'd heard you weren't working with the Winchesters. The rumors are true then." Tension fills my chest at the sound of this man's voice and when I meet his calculating gaze, I know.

"Lucifer."

He bows his head to me. His vessel is wounded, covered in blood, and scabbing on his face. "Crowley," my demon seems to be holding his breath. "You're the one slithering his way up in rank." Now he analyzes Crowley's vessel, "and you two are…" he points a finger at me, then shifts it back and forth from Crowley and I. When he puckers his lips he speaks again, "I see." He steps to the side, "I'm aware you haven't come to see me. By all means, view my brother and know I wish it hadn't come to this." Fear pulses inside of me, but I take a first step and continue on. When beside him, he grasps my wrist. "There are large plans for the one who bears your burden." These words cut like glass. Upon raising my arm, he removes the knife from my hand then loosens his grip on me. "Crowley, you and I need to have quite the discussion." Another pause, "As I said, view my brother, Sasha."

No movement. I swallow the bile rising in my throat, "I won't leave him. You talk to the both of us, or neither."

Annoyance creeps across his features, but a small smirk lifts the corner of his mouth, "Noble. What a precious quality in these times." Without another word, he's gone.

It takes Crowley a moment to breathe, but he nods once at me, acknowledging that he is behind me. Not good enough. I link arms with him and stride down the hallway. Blood coats the flat paint. Bodies adorn the floor, holes ripped through their chests, squished heads, and torn back fingernails from their clawing at the tile floor. The stench of blood is overwhelming. Stepping over a pile of innards, we enter a conference room.

I don't know what I expected. It's beautiful in a heartbreaking way. The way the ashes scatter around, the wings I stroked once now burnt around him. There's a simple hole in his chest from where an angel blade pierced him.

"I'll leave you to it." Crowley whispers in my ear and then his footfalls are again all I hear.

Focus on breathing. Inhale. Don't think, don't think, don't think.

But I do.

I think of simpler times when all I knew was his janitorial job. I think of the moment I slipped my fake card from my bra, handed it to him, and watched his eyes gleam. When he'd asked me on a date, our first kiss – when I actually believed this could become something special. I was so focused on my lack of dating experience, how he'd been my Prince Charming come to rescue me from a lifetime of hunting. And then killing him. He looked a lot more peaceful in his fake death than he does now.

I step over the scorched wingspan and kneel beside his head.

Those months later when he returned to me, it was as if I had finally found my something special. Sure, I perceived him as a Trickster, but it could work. But it didn't, and a part of me wonders how much differently it would have gone if he'd just walked from those doors – wings and all – and confessed. But he didn't, and a part of me is still aching for the simplicity of before.

Tears slip from the corners of my eyes. I hadn't realized I'd been crying; soft hitching of breath, but otherwise silent. Tears mixed with the ashes around him.

Yes, he had hurt me – literally tortures me – but somewhere deep down, I wasn't jaded. Frightened, maybe. Call me empathetic. Gabriel was reasoning with the fact that he had failed. He saw it all over my face every glance in Crowley's direction. I've always belonged to him.

"I wish we could have ended differently." I whisper after pressing a kiss to his cold forehead.

Gabriel's words fill my memory: _Maybe Crowley isn't the one that's negative._

One glance upwards and I can see his jacketed arm peeking around the corner of the doorframe. He occupies the hall with the bodies and the stench of horror. I'm stepping around the wingspan, pressing toward the door, and searching Crowley's paled face. _For some reason, he outweighs me in your mind._

For a moment, Crowley is unaware of my presence. His eyes scan back and forth, blinking hard, lungs expelling air jaggedly. His fingers tighten into fists but loosen short after, only to repeat these movements. One shake of his head to lower his gaze, then he grinds his teeth together, extending his jaw then grinding it back again. That surprise visit from Lucifer did a number on him.

And then another memory, this time, dad's words, ones I now find can apply to many situations, _Sometimes we don't see the rest, because we're so focused on one._

In spite of myself, I grasp onto the front of Crowley's coat, startling him, but pull forward and wrap him in an embrace. I don't care that he's a demon and touchy situations are forbidden. I don't care that he has to keep up authoritative appearances. Gabriel is gone, my decision rendered weeks before this death, and ten minutes ago Crowley could have been killed by the one being that doesn't fear him. I want my soul. I want to be powerful. I want to help.

He presses his lips to the top of my head, strong arms enveloping around me.

"Are you okay?" I mumble into his tie.

He pauses momentarily, "Been better." I'm snapped back to the mansion, into my room. Chills consume me, his body no longer beside mine, but reaching on the ground for my duffel. "Now, we're running."

"What?"

He tosses my bag on the bed, unzips it, snaps a briefcase into his hands, and stands waiting for me.

"If Lucifer discovers where we're residing, he'll wipe the both of us out. Pack. We're leaving." In a hurry, I gather everything I have and shove it into my bag.

"Crowley, if he were set on killing either of us, he'd have done it earlier."

"Best be safe." He pauses to glance in my direction. I'm tired of being on the run, "For the night, then." A nod and we're in an unfamiliar room. "He's unaware of my roots." When I pull back the blinds, beautiful scenery fills my vision. "Welcome to Canisbay, darling."

The landscape, the sky, the smells – everything is different. I can't help the smile on my face.

"Crowl, it's beautiful!"

"Glad you enjoy it. Now, off to work."

"What?" he closes the curtains and saunters off to his briefcase.

When it opens, he pulls out Pseudomonarchia Daemonum, "Gamigin. You recall?" I nod. "You said you wanted a way to get your demonic spirit back." He opens to a page, "this is it."

He's right. I have nowhere else to go, and even if I tried, every demon would eventually discover my story and capture me were I ever out of Crowley's sight. This is the step I must take. Is this what Lucifer meant by my burden?

"What's the plan?" I'm feeling overwhelmingly fearless. I'd just escaped Lucifer. I'd decided which side I stand on, and I'm prepared for anything thrown my way.

He raises an eyebrow but begins, "You've memorized it, yes? Gamigin can call upon souls in Purgatory."

"And you think that's where mine's at?"

He shrugs, "S'not in Hell. Heaven damn well can't keep it. Where do the monsters go, I wonder." Peeking over his shoulder, I realize he has every ingredient to conjure this demon in his suitcase, "All I need…"

"A vessel." I finish for him. He goes to the window, peeks out, glances back at me with a smirk, then disappears. When I run to the window and peak at the life below there is no one on the street. Crowley clears his throat behind me. A redheaded man sits unconscious in the chair. "Did you just snatch him up from the street?"

He chuckles, "The old drunkard stumbled from a pub. Trust me, we're doing this place a favor." He begins drawing the sigil on the floor around the chair, reciting Latin. Truth be told, his deep voice makes the dead language sound absolutely alluring. The items are placed in a bowl and lit. The spark goes out almost instantly and I watch the lights flicker. Black smoke enters the room. "There we are."

Once Gamigin possesses this man, Crowley slips my blade from my bag. I step forward.

"How dare you." The accent is thick Scottish and I can't help but smile. "Have you no idea where the hell I've been."

"Three guesses, my first: Purgatory." Crowley's response silences him immediately. "Which is why you're here. A certain bedtime story has informed me of your specialties." Crowley pauses, glancing down at the devil's trap then up to meet my eyes. I nod; I'll let him out when the time comes. "Seems I've gotten myself into a swampy rut. Care to help push me on out, there, old man?"

Gamigin chuckles darkly, "A silver knife? Nice try." Crowley slices just below his jugular. He screams.

"Not playing around here, mate." This just angers him but my demon blade surprises him. Crowley hadn't cuffed him as I would have. Gamigin stands, tilting his head while looking at Crowl. I pounce almost instantly, tearing the cuffs from my bag and snatching his wrists then strapping them to the chair. I'm surprised when I shove my forearm towards his nose. "Ohhh, look what you're treating me with. Heard through the grapevine I don't crack unless there's a girl involved?" I feel disgusted.

"Right, that's not even in the cards for you. Terribly sorry."

His head snaps toward him, "Truly? You dangle this lovely piece of meat before me, but I can't even taste?" he clicks his tongue. Absentmindedly I step back towards Crowley, "Oh. I see. She's your Galway girl."

Crowley's eyes narrow and this time he stabs him through the bicep, "Ever spoken with a demon named Sasha in Purgatory? Ever heard of her?"

Gamigin seethes, "No information if no girl."

I pull the knife from Crowley's hands then circle Gamigin. I'm having flashbacks of time in Hell, torturing branded souls, searing the skin from damned men. "We conjured you, so you talk. Or I'll cut out your tongue."

"Me likey when then lady talks dirty." His laugh is high pitched. "But she won't do a damned thing."

One swift movement, his earlobe is cut off. "You don't start talkin', I'll start getting closer to your mouth."

When his screaming ceases, he glares up at me, "You raging bitch."

"True. Now, anything about this demon?"

He swallows hard, "She's without a body."

"We're aware. Anything else?" Crowley pipes in.

He shakes his head. Again, not good enough. This time, I slice into his Adam's apple.

"Is there a way to get there?" I press.

He glares, "Go screw yourself."

"So you won't tell us?" He smirks, nodding, so I plunge the blade into his chest and pull it out after the orange flickers fade from my eyes. "That's all I needed."

Crowley stands, shoulders relaxed, arms crossed, looking smug. "I'm impressed."

"He just proved my point, that there is a way to get there aside from dying." I scratch the paint off with the heel of my shoe, "Dispose of the body?" he snaps and it's done. "I'm going to take a wild guess here and say that you have a backup plan."

"What makes you say that?" he's adjusting his tie.

"You always do. Besides, you had everything prepared for today. That's what you've been working on this entire time."

"If Gamigin didn't come through – and let's be honest, did we really think he would – I knew we'd need someone who has knowledge beyond this generation of hunters. Someone who's efficient, dedicated…"

"But just as able to be manipulated." By now, I better damn-well know how he thinks.

"You never cease to amaze me."

"It's a gift." I joke.

He saunters close to me, "Do you know a Samuel Campbell?"

"The boys' grandpa?" I was not expecting that.

"Mmmmhm." He draws this out, "Imagine what he'd know. Of course, I'd need leverage to get him to work on my behalf." He pauses, "If he does me a service, I'll give him his pretty little daughter back." I can tell how proud he is of this idea.

"So you'd just let her crawl out from whatever gravestone she's under?"

"God, no, that would be a waste of a perfect opportunity." When I don't bite, he replies, "ten years. I could give him anything he wants, up to and including his rebellious Mary. S'not a bad offer."

"Worth a shot." The moments Crowley takes to close the suitcase ruin me. I'm confronted with memories of Hell.

_God's warriors fall one after the other. It's an all-out brawl between demonkind and angels. I feel different, like I'm rooting for the black eyes to succeed. His features are defined and skin porcelain. Gabriel stands before me._

"_Sasha, we've come for you. Please-" one of the demons tosses a blade into his right wing, sending him to his knees. My eyes take in the bloodshed around me, the pure devastation, and how I feel nothing. No remorse, no anticipation of help, no need to run. "Please, come with us. Let us take you where you belong."_

_I lean down the pick the knife from his wing to use it against him, and he chooses to place a bleeding palm on my forehead. Everything goes white – pure._

I stumble in real-time. Crowley catches my arm, "What's happened?"

"Flashbacks again." He's distressed by my announcement, but nods simply, "Soon, this will all be over. I promise. You'll be more powerful than you could've imagined."

Steadying myself, I walk toward the window and stare into the dusk. Gabriel may have been correct; this feels right, though it seems negative. He's right behind me, lacing arms around my hips.

"Sorry this didn't go how you'd have wanted." He pauses, "The angel business. I know a part of you wanted to be on that side."

"Before. But you've shown me more decency than an angel has." The whisper of my words takes a moment to seep in, their truth settling themselves deep in Crowley's core.

"Sometimes I don't want to. Sometimes it's hard to be gentle." Despite his words, he caresses my side.

My speech unfolds faster than I can comprehend, but the echoes are nonetheless truthful, "I don't want you to force it, Crowley. Be whoever you are when you wake up in the morning; that's enough for me. I'd rather have all of you than anyone else."

I can sense his unease when he says, "Means a lot, love," and leaves to his suitcase.

Eyes to the sky once more, I breathe evenly. This is my life now. This is my choice. Maybe things could have been different, but it is how it is. Maybe this is my destiny.

_Goodbye, my friend. Until we meet again._


	28. Catharsis

Raindrops race down my window; I let my eyes lose focus. Lights are blanketed with the fogging of the glass. Night air covers my body in chill bumps, but I sit in the truck with the engine off. Crowley knows I'm here by now. He's likely been here for hours, working tirelessly per usual. One blink and I feel my rage bubble again, the way it did when I first stormed to the truck and hoisted myself behind the wheel. Combat boots firmly planted on the ground, I slam the door and start toward the house. It's unlocked, so I let myself in. Sam's back is to me; I recognize the tense shoulders.

Eyes bewildered, he turns to me, "Sasha?" There's a loud banging coming from a closed door, but I don't lose eye contact. He hugs me tightly, gasping against the top of my head. I lose all my anger momentarily and bury my face in his shoulder. He pulls away, "it's good to see you." A hundred questions are going through my head, but he turns away from me to open the door. Dean's screaming stops.

"What'd you do with Brady?" Dean lashes out, looking wildly around, passing me while Sam calms him. Finally his eyes land on me, "What the fuck is this?" he's towering over me, jaw clenched.

"God, the day I've had." His voice makes Dean jump and turn. I feel my stomach tighten with relief and frustration. "Sasha! Don't cower over there, come, join us."

"I should rip you a new one!" I push past Dean and grab Crowley by the collar. A smirk lifts his lips. I search his face, spotting the blood across his cheek. Pulling away, I notice the tears in his suit.

"Good news!" he's still looking at me, but speaking to the man in the chair, "You're going to live forever."

"What'd you do?" the man groans. He's a demon. I step to protect the boys, surely they're aware; he sits in a trap.

"Went over to a demons' nest, had a little massacre. Must be losing my touch, though. Let one of the little toads live. Oops. Also might have given said toad the impression that you left your post last night because you and I are – wait for it – lovers in league against Satan." The man sighs, "Hello, darling."

I think back to Crowley's conversation with the demon guard. Brady is in charge of Pestilence. The boys are trying to get the rings of the four horsemen. Judging by the way Crowley's acting, their little brain-picking failed. Off in the distance, a hellhound howls. Everything is a rush, but Crowley grabs my hand, and my next blink I'm standing in a cold, caged room.

"Where are we?"

"Fight fire with fire, yeah?" Crowley saunters forward and I realize I'm in a kennel with empty cages. Until I hear a snarl.

"Crowl…?"

He sniggers, "Come, they won't attack." Taking his words truthfully, I follow him to the end cage. With the swipe of a hand, it unlocks and swings open. There's no seeing it, "Hey! Slow." My eyes jolt up to Crowley then back to the floor. A cold nose presses to my shoulder. "He's quite large."

"Typically." I mutter, thinking of his original deal. "What do I do?"

"Raise your hand and pet him. He's sweet when he wants to be. Enjoy it while it lasts." His hands shove in his pockets while I rise to touch the hound. Its hair is slightly wiry and its body radiates heat. I'm on edge, but feel a warm tongue press to my neck. "Sash, back, now." I pull away instantly, separating myself from the mutt. A deep growl sounds, the pup's mood changing with a moment's notice. "Now, Malo, delebis ipsum." My Latin is fuzzy, but I recognize the phrase: _destroy it_. We're flashed back to the house, Sam and Dean with this new demon, cowering. "Hey!"

Dean calls, "You're back?"

"I'm invested. Currently." Malo growls, "Stay!"

"You can control them?"

"Not that one." Crowley points to the scratches on the ground before the boys. "I brought my own." He pats the hound on the head, just below his shoulders. His height makes my stomach tighten, "Mine's bigger." He chuckles, "Sic 'em, boy!"

We all run out of the house when we get the chance, Crowley already beside my truck.

"Where to now?" I gasp.

Crowley eyes between me and the Impala, "Listen, it's best if you go back. Leave this to me."

"Crowley! These boys were at my throat last I saw them. They don't like us together. What the hell are you doing working with them?"

"Sasha, follow us. We've gotta go!" Sam calls. Crowley glares, challenging me, but I get in the truck, slam the door, and follow the brothers as soon as they pull out.

It takes twenty minutes for Sam and Dean to finish with the demon I now know as Brady. My eyes fixate on the neon sign just above the Impala's parking spot. I don't cross the salt line, but stare at Crowley before he disappears. Not another word spoken.

I'm hoping for a beer; a quick drive to a bar to discuss what life's been like since I ran off, but Dean's accusing gaze makes me bite my tongue. Sam kills Brady and comes over to us. The knife is still in his hand, mine in my combat boot.

"So, is it true?" Dean asks, "Cas told us about you being tortured in Hell." I don't speak. "And now you're accepting Crowley's Terms and Conditions to become a demon?" Sam's hand fidgets with the blade. "Tell me, is it true?"

I swallow hard, "Yes."

He swings and I dodge, letting him hit his knuckles into the brick behind me. Sam looks conflicted, but steps forward. "Sasha, we need to talk about this."

My keys are in my hand, my boots thudding against the ground as I speed to my truck. Sam's at my heels, his fingers grabbing at my back, and he pulls me. Dean's holding his injured hand, rushing towards us and Sam lifts his fist but sets it back. Dean kicks me in the face, sending me a left hook shortly after. I taste blood and feel it trickling down my nose.

"Why do you think this is a good idea? What gives you the right to join up with Crowley!? Of all beings, Crowley?" a few more hits.

I want to scream from rooftops, thrash to tell him I haven't felt whole all my life. I've searched for ways to complete myself, but every angle leaves me less full. It's been a flat line, even hunting. But then Crowley walked into my life. He shook me awake, kept my eyes wide to view the most astounding possibilities. I owe everything to him, and if this would help him – help me become powerful for once – I'll take the opportunity with open arms.

But I can't tell him that because my tongue is bursting open, my lips are bloody, and even if my voice could reach from out of my skull, he wouldn't understand. Dean doesn't get things unless they happen to him.

"Dean, that's enough." The hits stop. Sam lifts his brother off me, allowing me to stand slowly. He lets me pull my keys from the ground and stumble to the truck. I deserved that. I deserve more, but my bones feel like they're about to break. My arms are heavy when I lift them to the wheel after turning the key in the ignition. I can hear Dean cussing at Sam who struggles to keep him locked in a hold. One glance back at the boys and I speed onto the road. Maybe a hundred days ago, this could be different. But I'm here now and here does not allow for them.

My blood dries on my skin for two hours, but I don't clean up. I drive until I see cornfields and no headlights behind me. It takes all I have to pull over, turn off the truck, get out, and hoist myself onto the hood. I stare at the stars, asking for answers, begging for forgiveness from a source I'm unsure of. What Crowley and I are aiming to do – what we've been doing for a full month now – is undoubtedly risky. We plan to resurrect Samuel Campbell and allow him to assist us. That's our next step after our research, if we can't find another way to Purgatory.

Crowley asked me once if I wanted to bind my soul to his. I often wonder life would be like if I'd agreed. The Winchesters would believe it was a shady deal and I'd have avoided this whole angel business. Gabriel would still be alive. Why am I thinking about this now?

This may not even work; us searching for Purgatory. The brothers are already pissed at me, and if I don't get my soul back, there's no way I could run back to them. There's no way I'd survive this. It would be an all-out war: demonkind versus the human miscreant. Crowley would have to back down, or kill me. I let my head fall to my hands in frustration but upon feeling a fierce breeze, I look up. Someone breathes before me. My mind goes into overdrive, fingers pressed into my boots to grasp my knife. They grab my legs, pulling me to the dirt road and knocking me upside the head with something metal.

I come to while I'm being dragged – half by my hair, half by the collar of my coat. My vision is blurry, but I can make out cornstalks and the night sky. There's a break in the stalks and I'm dropped. Mustering my strength, I stand to fight. We're in the middle of a crop circle, a small fire made in the center. A blonde woman stands before me.

"Well, Sasha, welcome," she says, "please, relax."

"Who are you and what the fuck is this?"

She chuckles, "I've been hearing whisperings that you're a key player in Hell."

My head aches and I can feel blood dripping down my back from the wound on my head. "What?" she steps closer. I can see the tattoos on her arms and somehow I know, "You're a witch."

"Winner." She smirks, "Now, cut the crap. A few demons I'm in with have let me know you're holding a heavy position in Hell."

"You've said, making this the second time I've heard it. Your demons are wrong."

"No, I don't think they are." She's circling me, "Crowley. Know him?" she catches the recognition in my posture, I can sense it. "Ah, yes. Well, he's aiming to be king, is he not?" Again, I keep my mouth shut, "What exactly would that make you? I know you two have been dicking around. You're his pet. Currently." She stops dead in front of me.

"And you want me to throw my weight around? What is it: some old teenage fantasy from your goth stage? Wanna be princess of Hell or some shit?"

"I'd settle for Advisor," she seethes, "if you'd be so kind."

Something deep inside of me changes. I can feel a difference in the way I breathe, "Nice try," my arm juts out, palm open and pressed to this girl's neck. I squeeze, "but you don't have the strength," I speak through clenched teeth. My thumb presses at her throat.

It's cut short when she slices her long fingernail into my forearm. My skin burns, I start losing feeling in my fingers, it slowly seeps up my arm.

"Poison," she cackles, angling her fingers in a wicked form. "Now, maybe I'd like a new position; one that you would be taking." She presses a heel into my arm, tearing at the separated flesh. My veins are popped, swollen, and the numbness is eating its way up my arm. Now she holds up my knife, "Must admit, you've got good taste in silver." My left arm reaches for her, but she grasps my fingers and lowers the blade to my wrists, slicing deep and smooth. "May have cut a vein there. Sorry, dear." Some incantation is whispered under her breath. It's not Latin. I'm lightheaded from blood loss, something all too familiar to me, but I stand slowly. My chest feels hollow, throat useless. She's crescendoing with her voice, a high pitched ringing filling my ears. I can't breathe.

I take this time to stare at the moon; it's almost full. Something with a large wingspan soars above us. It almost looks like an angel. I choke on my tongue when it starts dropping. He lands with a heavy thud a few feet away from us; fingertips to the ground, chest to his bent leg from the landing. The witch continues her incantation as he strides over to us.

"Evening, ladies." He greets before sending a right hook into her cheekbone. As she falls, I feel the breath enter my lungs once again. Balthazar stands between the two of us, gazing down at her. "Surrender." He says, but she stands and glares before lunging at him. He quickly shifts his weight, moving his arm between hers, pressing upwards and holding her head. I watch as she falls to the ground, dead. "We've gotta go." He grabs my arms, pressing into the open wounds. I can feel the cells reforming and when I look back the skin is fixed. A touch to my forehead and the dried blood is gone. I blink and we're back in my truck, the knife safe in my lap. He holds his hand out for my keys.

"Why can't I drive?"

He sighs, "You're shaken. Please, allow me." I hand them over and watch him start the engine, shift gears, and ease onto the road. "She did cut a vein, mind." I'm silent but looking at my milky skin. "Next time, don't stop on the side of the road for a breather. Save that for the mansion."

"Lesson learned."

He sighs, "You've been buried in all this, I know, but the last thing you need right now is a clan of witches fighting for your position in Hell."

"I don't understand, wh-"

"-They've demon cohorts! Word spread, they want in. Any witch would gratefully take your tainted soul." His words silence me. I'm wide-eyed and breathless. "Surely you knew this."

"So now they're after me, too?"

"Look, I know you're iffy on this, but your choices are understandable. Choosing Crowley was likely the safest bet," he glances at me then back to the road.

"Really? Not your side?" I'm skeptical.

"I'd love to promise a safe place to stay, but the angels are fucked up. Angels giving orders…they'd want you dead as soon as you stepped through the gates," he says, "You need to choose a side – wholeheartedly. Either trust Crowley not to have ulterior motives, or stay human. The latter would, of course, cause the Winchesters to continue their angsty trust issues and your first job would be to kill Crowley. You're aware of that, yeah?" the lights across his face make him look daring. "I see where your heart lies. As much as you'd like to deny it, Crowley's gotten under your skin. You want to protect him, so do it."

When we arrive, I give him a hug. I wonder if this will be the last time he sees me human. He whispers about taking care of myself and leaves before demons come. The guard lets me in and smirks knowingly, but I push past him and hurry through the foyer. Turning a corner, I run face first into Crowley's chest. The low growl in his throat chills me.

"You reek of angel."

"Yeah, and witch." I challenge. "Apparently I'm being hunted. Witches think I'm going to be some important role in Hell, so they want to take my place."

"Or Balthazar planted that witch himself, to seem like a knight in shining armor. Wants you on the feathery side, I assume?"

"Actually, he defended your side, suggested I stay exactly where I am." My blood pressure is rising. "Crowley, Dean beat the living hell out of me today. They know my stand. I could have easily denied it, accused you of putting me under some spell, and sent them here. But I didn't. I didn't because I'm with you, because despite your constant insults and mood swings, I'm ready to fight for you."

"Ah. Well, I've a meeting. See yourself to your quarters." And he side-steps me to saunter down the hall.

The demons working tonight stare at me, probably wondering why I'm the one Crowley's investing all his time into. I storm toward my room, slamming the door, and running a shower for myself. Though the blood is off of me, I still have a disgusting feeling on my skin.

In an hour, I've showered, cleaned my guns, and sharpened my silver. I wander to the kitchen, hoping the cook is still up. He is, resting against a countertop.

"Master Sasha, good evening. What do you want?" his name is Travis and he's a strange one. Crowley's had to torture him to keep him in line. Once, I'd asked for a salami sandwich and he cooked a dead rat, put it between slices of bread, and delivered it to my room. I almost exorcised him then.

"Who's Crowley meeting with?"

"You think I know her name? He gives me food orders and shoves me aside," I glare, "She's a witch, s'all I know."

I try to slow myself down, but before I know it, I've run down the halls to his office. Without knocking, I let myself in. The witch sits on his desk, he in his chair. Her long fingers dance across his knee, inching their way up his thigh. She doesn't turn to me, just continues muttering about a regime change. His eyes flick to me, a very faint smirk on his lips. I can feel it again; the way my breathing changed in the cornfield. Something in me is clawing its way out, ready to pounce. Soft steps to the desk, a firm grip on her flowing hair, and I toss her to the floor. She's up in seconds, glaring at me.

"So this is your little bitch. Hi ya, Sasha. Pleasure to meet you."

"You think you can just walk in here, seduce him, and get your way? Honey, this isn't Beverly Hills and I'm not letting you take my place." I eye her tattoos and recognize a few symbols, "Your clan member. Have you checked in on her since she came after me?" her eyes widen in horror, "I'm taking that as a no," I turn my eyes to Crowley who sits idle in his chair. He blinks slowly, meeting my gaze, but I break it and turn completely to the witch, "I haven't had action in quite some time. Kinda bored, actually," even my voice sounds different, "Tell ya what: we fight. No spells, no tricks; just fists. You win, you get my place and if we find my soul, it'll possess you instead." She seemed pleased with this, "But I win and you call all your witch friends off, realize I'm the best fit to take power, and scurry away with your brooms between your legs."

"Fair fight? Sounds fun." She settles in a fighting stance.

I know Crowley would want us to take it outside, so I attack in here before she can. My first hit, I hear Crowley stand up.

"Outside!" he hollers, but we're too busy clawing at one another.

I remember the fighting the brothers and I used to practice and use that to my advantage. It's been a while since I've had a fair fight. A right hook sends me spiraling down. I swallow the blood from where I bit my cheek, and block her hands from my face. She gets a few claw marks in anyway. She's atop me, pulling at my hair and kneeing my stomach. Quickly, I swing for the jugular, grab her hand, and reverse the position. She's coughing and gasping, so I grab her hair and start banging her head against the hardwood. Long claws scratch at my neck, tearing flesh. I elbow her in the face, kneel on her gut, and break her nose with my right hand. Standing quickly, I back away.

Crowley's staring at me, mouth open slightly. His eyes are dark. He approaches me, taking his hands out of his pockets. My adrenaline is still pumping, he's my new threat. His fingers come toward me and I put my arm up to block. We stand like this for a moment, chests heaving, each waiting for the other to make a move.

"Let me have a look at you," there's a softness to his undertone, "Ah, I was wondering when you'd be ready. There it is; pupils dilated, a new hardness to your regard." He waves his hand and a loud thud and glass breaking is heard. The witch is pinned to the wall, but Crowley's attention is still on me.

"I'm still ready to fight!" she screams.

Crowley turns then, "She's broken your nose, you're breathing like an asthma attack has stricken you, and the blood is drying your eyelids shut. Aside from all that, I already have the position filled." He turns back to me now. My breathing is still different. I'm on fire with rage, and can't seem to calm myself. "Queen," he says and all breathing stops. I'm pressed to the wall then, his hands grabbing behind my knees to hold me up. Our lips are connected roughly and between kisses he mutters, "Do you accept?"

With bated breath, I pull back, look him straight in the eyes, and firmly tell him, "I'd be honored," before grabbing onto the back of his neck and pulling his lips to mine again.

"There's my girl," he mutters between kisses. For what feels like minutes, we ignore the witch; it's just us, just skin and wandering hands. I'm filled with a desire like never before. When he pulls away and looks into my eyes, he can sense it. "Okay," he calls to the witch, "out." She falls from the wall, landing on her stomach, but scurrying to her feet as Crowley sets me down. I get my bearings and watch as she lunges at the demon, a blade between her pointer and middle finger. I take the stab in my shoulder, sliding out the edge, and impaling her in the throat. She falls, coughing on her blood as I eye the silver. There are carvings on the handle. Of all the knives I've seen, this looks the most similar to my demon killing knife. How she got it is beyond me. What witch would waltz into the King of the Crossroad's office without some insurance? She expected things to go south.

"Grayson!" I call, the door opening shortly after, "dispose of her, please." I pocket the knife, take Crowley's hand, and escort him out of the room and towards the steps that lead to his bedroom. He doesn't protest.


	29. Unsteady

Twenty steps before we reach the door. Crowley is hesitant about opening it, but his lower regions must be thinking for him.

He slams the door almost as soon as we enter, "Drink, or…?"

Without a word, my eyes scan around, taking in as much of the room as I can. Hell knows when or if I'll be here again. He smirks and saunters off toward the middle of the room. Crimson curtains, closed blinds, alcohol bottles covering a glass table which he walks toward, over a black carpet. A fire roars in the fireplace, gold and black bed sheets, and a bay window with plush cushions atop the rise. I want to tell him how beautiful his room is, with the gray painted walls and arched doorframes, but all I can think about is fucking him at that window seat. The way his lips move toward his full glass of alcohol makes my stomach squirm. There is much for us to discuss, with this new rise to queendom, but something inside of me aches for his touch.

"Crowley…" I begin, but lose the words when his broad shoulders are before my eyes. I raise my chin to watch him take another hefty gulp of his drink. The alcohol smells comforting.

He is half-glazed eyes and stubble when I push him to the wall and kiss him. He sets his glass on the dresser beside him and chuckles at my lunge. Rough hands stutter across my edges; pulling and ripping at the clothing that separates us. I yank his tie off; unbutton his shirt while he tosses his jacket and slips off his pants. I'm shimmying out of my red thong when he grabs me around the waist. He's kissing the back of my neck and leading me to the bed. Falling on my back, legs spread, I watch him toss his shirt beside me. Thumb to my clit, he grunts, lips lowering to my slit.

"Already so wet? Hm."

A quick tongue sends me to heaven. I'm seeing stars, grinding my hips into his mouth, and clawing at the bed sheets. Crowley's shirt is beneath my right palm, the softness rubbing against my skin. I'm close, but he stops to kiss my thighs and grab my breasts. Hazy-eyed, I rise, holding myself up on my elbow. A quick shift has me in his lap. I straddle him and inch my fingers down to his waistband, feeling his warm flesh, teasing his tip, but a slam startles me.

Crowley stands protectively before the bed, fists raised and still managing to look frightening in his boxers with a hard-on poking its way up. From around him, I can see a man with a soft smirk on his face. It leaves within seconds of recognizing Crowley's not-fucking-around stature. The shift in the air covers my body in chills, my nipples growing even harder from the cold. To cover myself, I slip on Crowley's shirt.

"Sir-"

"What in all Hell are you doing up here?"

"I needed to discuss something with you. I should've knocked, I-" the demon stutters.

Crowley interrupts, "-shouldn't even be up in this wing," I shift on the bed, ready to stand in case we need to fight, "stay where you are," he warns without turning. I stop.

"Sir-"

My blade – which was on the ground – flings up when Crowley raises his hand. I watch it stab into the throat of the demon; orange flashes, and he falls to the floor. With his dead vessel on the ground, Crowley swipes his hand to the side and the door slides the body out of the room. It's forgotten when he saunters toward me.

"Now…" his hands replace my own on the hem of the shirt. He takes in the look of the unbuttoned black top, my cleavage visible, "what are we to do about this?" the gravelly tone to his voice entices me. He has my right leg arched on the bed, the left dangling over. Stepping out of his boxers, he eases his hips toward mine. I rise to meet him, noticing that he watches my expression when he enters me. Three seconds pass before he's moving; sliding in and out of me at a tantalizing speed. I grip his wrist and glare, "What, now? Not fast enough for the Queen?" when he calls me that, I'm breathless, his shirt slipping off my shoulder, so I slide it from my arms.

Two seconds, I've managed to slide back, slipping him from me momentarily, and yank him on the bed. I'm on his back within a blink, straddling his hips as he shifts to face me. Eyes narrowed, he grips my sides with bruising force. In turn, I pull back to slip him back inside to which he groans.

I'm noticing that I can't help myself. My tongue trails across his bare chest, biting the sensitive skin every so often. My hand slips behind me, reaching to cup his balls. He sucks air between his teeth and bucks his hips rougher with each trust. Lips at his neck, skin-to-skin, we breathe together. The air in his room tastes different. When he kisses me, I'm on fire. I want nothing more than to dominate him, to rip at his flesh this time, fuck him raw. There is a hunger in me like never before and I feel it in my fingertips. Hands shake, body stung with sweat, I moan his name into his ear and cum. This orgasm is so powerful, I see white. He holds me steady when I slump atop him, lazily kissing his neck with a 'thank you' on my tongue.

"Fuck…" I mutter, breathless.

When he speaks, "On your back," I don't move. I can't. I'm busy kissing his chest and imagining having him for the rest of eternity. On the floor, in the shower, before the window, in the kitchen with the cook yelling at us, his desk, his chair, my truck. I want him in the study, on the stairs, on the beach, beneath the stars. When he says, "Darling, now," I can sense the urgency and I rise on my elbows to meet dilated pupils and a bit, bloody lip. He slips from me easily and I notice my wet thighs. A quick turn over and I spread myself for him. "You've quite enjoyed yourself, there, love," he grunts when he's back inside. My mouth can't form words.

Harsh kisses. I taste his blood. I'm at that point of total ecstasy, toe-curling, moaning pleasure. His large hand grips my neck and I moan. My hand reaches for his throat but falls short. This eggs him on. Thrusting, gasping, he tightens his hand; lifts his hips just enough to stroke my spot. Fingernails claw at his tattooed bicep and the edges of my vision blur black. My mind screams for him to stop, but my body is riding out another orgasm. He lets me breathe when he's cumming himself; collapsing atop me with the sexiest, most arousing noises I've heard from his mouth. My throat burns, eyes are prickling with tears. From the orgasm and the choking, I worry if I'll ever catch my breath again.

So I focus on his breathing; the way his mouth feels against my shoulder. The ceiling is illuminated with hues from the fire, and his vessel's tattoos look gorgeous in this light. When I can move my hand, I trace patterns across the ink, remembering a time when I was too afraid to look at them, in fear he would react. I've never spoken to him about them, in fear he would put his shirt back on and leave. Even now he doesn't know how much I enjoy them. He slips from me, presses his sweaty body against mine, and kisses my hair once. I still can't breathe.

"Crowl-" he hushes me, pressing his hand softly to my bruising neck. I feel whole.

There's nothing I need more than the deep kisses he gives me after our romp. I hum against his lips and curl into his side. The crackling of the fire lulls me to sleep.

This is the first good rest I've gotten in weeks. When I wake, the curtains are drawn and the room is still dark, but birds chirp outside of the window. The fire has burned out and the empty space next to me is cold. Grabbing Crowley's coat and slipping it on, I eye around the room. Trinkets adorn the mantle, small bones and crystal. Scrolls are piled in a cabinet, most likely crossroad deals. I sneak into the bathroom and run a shower. My neck is bruised from his hand last night. I rush through my washing, wrap in a towel, and scurry down the stairs to my room so I can dress in clothes that are not ripped.

He's in his office, looking impatient, "About time," he rises, but a slam startles me to face away. A demon charges me, pressing me to the wall. I feel the plaster crack, but kick him off. When he stabilizes, he swings at me, but I'm faster. Crowley watches me take him down, thrusting my knee into his throat, "Enough," I look up, confused, "Thank you, Baron, you may go." The demon pushes me off of him, stands, and leaves without a word.

"What the hell was that?"

"You need to be in tip top shape if you're going to be my queen," my eyes narrow, "So my grunts have agreed to attack when you're least expecting it."

"Sounds lovely." I want to fight it and go after him, but I know he's right in a sense. I need to be as strong as I've ever been if a demon is going to possess me.

Almost as soon as I leave the office to grab breakfast, I'm pounced on by two demons. I can feel Crowley's smirk through the walls. The rest of the day consists of these attacks; even on my way back from the library, books in hand. Somehow I manage to get through the mansion and to his office door with the books pressed against my breasts, a Starbucks coffee and tea in hand. Opening his door is the hardest task of the day; above the dozens of fights I've been in. My body aches with that after-workout tingle.

I slam the door with my foot, toss the books on the leather chair, and place his tea beside his hand. He greets me with a nervous gaze.

"What's wrong?"

He shakes his head, grunts a thanks for the tea, and drinks it, returning his attention to the scrolls before him.

He speaks, "Three scrolls for your to decipher," on top of the four library books. Joy.

When I turn back to the door, sipping my coffee, I almost trip. Peering down, there is a bag, "Um?"

"Spent half the day in a devil trap," he sounds, "Your plaid-wrapped, walking dildos and that grumpy old man now know how to kill me."

I almost drop my coffee, "What?"

"S'my bones," he nods toward the bag, "wracking my brain for a place of safekeeping."

"So that's true?" when I speak, he glares, "I just didn't believe it works. I mean, burning bones? Makes you seem like a spirit…"

I've offended him. He's back to the scrolls so I take this as my queue to leave. Hoisting my books in my arms and piling the scrolls on top, I climb to the second floor where no demons reside. There's a balcony overlooking the floor below, but the chair I occupy is far in the shadows, away from the view of the demons that sit in the open space.

Drowsiness grabs ahold of me sooner than I thought. Here Crowley was: silent in his office, busier than ever, sending demon after demon into places I least expected to be attacked, and now wracking his brain for a place to hide his bag of bones. Office hours ended at 11 o'clock, he assured me. He realized: I'm human. I still sleep. This afternoon I took another shower because of the stink of demon covering me. It was interrupted, and not by my regular demonic soap buddy. I killed that assassin for the fact that he'd seen me naked; made Grayson dispose of the body. I wondered where the demon from last night went; the one Crowley killed. Better yet, where was my knife? I settle back, deciding that Crowley was up early to take care of it and the blade was likely in his coat pocket.

The scrolls spewed across my lap: copies of old texts, mostly in Latin. I am to decode these to see if any contained purgatory secrets, but my mind currently has a better option: rest. Two demons chat over a cup of tea on the floor below.

"I'm not taking kitchen duty tomorrow. That dude is crazy." I'm beginning to close my eyes.

"So when do we move?"

My eyes jolt open. I'm hidden in the shadows, but I shrink lower in my seat and steady my breaths.

"Quiet." Forty seconds of silence fall upon the mansion. Nothing moves. "We're planning tonight; Crowley has a shit ton on his desk. The Red-eyes sent in their contract folders on Monday, and with them looking for Purgatory, they'll be busy." How do they know all this…?

"Hey!" The sudden yell frightens me, but I recognize Grayson. Is he in on this too? "What's going on?"

The demons sit straighter, but try to loosen their shoulders. I watch the awkwardness take over their features, "Just talking about some stupid human behaviors. Nothing special. You off duty?"

"Yeah, wanna catch some dinner or...?"

"Oh, no, we're uh...we're busy." After peeking, I recognize the one demon: Grayson's confidant. I'd seen them chatting whenever they were free. My eyes narrow and I'm wide awake. The two leave, I can hear their footfalls across the tile toward the kitchen hall. I'm on my feet instantly.

"Grayson." I whisper over the balcony. He turns and looks up. I wave him up and in a blink he's behind me. "How do they know?"

"Who knows what?" I point down to where they stood a few minutes before, "Rend and Tilly?"

"Sure. How do they know about our moves for Purgatory?" he straightens, "You told them." I reach for where my blade is, but remember it's missing, "What else have you mentioned?"

It takes him a moment before he huffs, "Samuel Campbell."

I leave him and the scrolls and the books. My only thought is to protect my king. My boots clamber down the hall, hardwood pounding against the rubber.

"The knife, do you have it?" He's still at his desk, it seems he hasn't moved but the bag of bones is gone.

"Yours? No. I've the witches." He pulls it from his coat, "You have yours. It's…" he stops, eyes wide.

"What? Crowley."

"Last night. The body was gone in the morning, as was your knife," he stands, "someone's taken it."

"Just fucking great!" I holler, "Well, we have a revolt on our hands."

"Beg pardon?"

In a hurried breath, I explain what I know: all of it. He takes a tick to swallow it down and the door flies open. I do my best to stand before him, guarding him with my short stature, but it's only Grayson. He closes the door.

"There are thirty."

"What?'

"They just asked me to join. Thirty-some demons. And they have a demon blade."

I breathe, "Yes, mine."

"They performed some ritual on it, but that's all I know."

Crowley mutters, "'at's why they got cozy with the witches."

"Sir, I'm sorry. I just…I didn't think anything of telling them. Only two demons and now a revolt."

The power is cut. For a moment, I can't see anything. Cheering sounds. Grayson smokes out, leaving his vessel on the floor.

"Go." I tell Crowley, moving the nearest chairs and cabinets to barricade the door. "I'll sneak to my truck or fight my way to it. Go." He doesn't move. "Crowley," I'm overtired and tense, feeling tears prickle at my eyes, "Please. Go."

He kisses the top of my head and silently stands before me. The rustling outside increases; demons pushing open the door and forcing their way inside, climbing over the cabinets. Crowley uses the blade to take down three demons within a blink. I watch him move and fight, dodging hits and jabbing into sides.

"Were we to leave, they'd find us. Let's take care of it now." He gives me the blade and we climb into the hallway, backs to each other, peering down either end of the long, narrow space. It's loud in here, but all I can hear is his breathing.

Soon, I'm fighting off three demons, thinking back to this morning's practice. I take them down faster than I've ever before. I feel like I'm in a fog; stabbing demons left and right, fighting them off, leading them into other rooms for a breather, and then going back to the killing. I don't focus on the vessels that cover the floor, blood that seeps between the hardwood. There's a scream and I know it's Crowley's. This halts me, just enough to get bashed upside the head with a lamp. A demon bitch claws at me, knocking me over as she lashes out. Flipping her over my head, I roll and rise to a fighting stance. Another scream.

"Best go check on your fuck buddy," she taunts, "right now, they've started the torture: they're slicing his wrists so deep, his vessel will bleed out and be weak. Then we can chain him up, learn what he knows, and go after Mr. Campbell before you get the chance to-" I don't let her finish, I stab her in the throat. Two more meet me at my way out of the room and I kill them hurriedly. I'm panting, but busting ass to get back to the hallway, tripping over bodies. I'm met with an empty hall, excluding Crowley.

He approaches me then, stung-stained with wounds that will no doubt take too long to heal – too long to stop aching. We don't speak. We don't stroke or smirk from a job well-done. His legs are unsteady. He falls into my arms. It's nothing like the movies where I'm waiting; sturdy. I stumble and push all my weight against him, simply to hold him up. The air does not falter beneath me, nor do I sigh, exasperated. To be honest, my mouth is dry, arms heaving him up. I can feel his dead weight, the warm blood leaving trail stains across my arms, my shirt, and all I can think is: _hold on to me, _and _if only I were there sooner_. But I stagger and mumble on about how _I've got you, _and _lean back_. He's against the wall now, eyes half-lidded. My heartbeat fills my eardrums.

Maybe if it hadn't, I would have heard the footfalls, noticed the stilled air. But once again, I fail. One lonely demon strikes, gouging into Crowley's chest. He's fast, but I'm faster. Before he can lob the blade deep, I kick his gut, listen to the knife fall, recognize it as my own, and knock him to the hardwood. I hover over him. I see red. My hands are at his throat within seconds, squeezing at his jugular, wondering what popped vocal chords look like from the underneath of his chin. My nails break skin; kneecap hooking upward to his nuts.

It's then that I hear Crowley's choppy breaths, and snatch the knife. It feels warm in my hands. One swift stab from chin to the roof of his mouth. Orange hues light the hallway. Standing, I toss the blade towards Crowley and dart down the hall as fast as my stable legs can carry me. Corpses block my path. I skid on blood. First aid kit: second cupboard on the right in the bathroom, and back again.

My knees will be bruised from the way I land before my demon, but I ignore the sting and open the kit. Crowley's humming something deep in his throat, eyes closed and shaking fingers hooking around his wrist. Blood pools around his knuckles, staining just beneath his nails. I mumble about letting go all while trying to recognize the melody. A hand juts out to grip my thigh painfully as his back rises from the wall. Orange flicks illuminate like lightning under his flesh. It reminds me of childhood. I find myself counting the seconds between the flashes, converting it to see how far the storm is from us.

Grayson warned us that the demons got smart. Their ritual on my blade gave poisonous aftereffects to an incision. This is what we're left with: gouged, oozing wrists and a stab wound in his chest. He's sweating like a toddler with an 105 degree fever.

"Bloody bastards!" he groans, fidgeting against the wall.

I clean the wound the best I know how, ignoring the curses Crowley slings at me in Latin. The flashes of orange continue. Each time straightening him with pain.

"I need light. Come on," It takes a few minutes to lead him into the bathroom, but when we get there, he flops down on the closed toilet seat and breathes heavily through his nose. Blood is still seeping from his wrists. "Shirt off," I instruct while cleaning my knife. Whatever they did to it, I doubt a simple cleaning will fix it. He sits idle, "now."

His eyes narrow as he struggles to unbutton his shirt, "As you command, Your Highness." About halfway down, his wrist is seeping. He stops due to a flash of orange and I notice the dark crimson dripping onto his pants. "Bollocks. Little help, 'ere?"

My fingers rush to finish the job, easing him out of the sleeves. After cleaning the other wrist, Crowley tries to stand, but I press cold fingertips into his chest. His gaze is challenging. In a second, I'm on his lap, letting his blood ruin my jeans, and cleaning the oozing wound on his chest. When he kisses me, I'm taken aback and quickly pull away.

"We have more important issues here. Like your wrists." Almost as if announcing themselves, the orange flicks again, shooting pain through Crowley. I'm off his lap and inspecting the slices when he starts cussing again. "Fuck."

"Wha-?" I grab the tweezers and set his wrist on the sink. He's fidgeting again, upsetting the wound, and making me clean it all over again. "Sash, so help me-"

The legs of the tweezers grab it and I yank it out, hearing a yelp, "This," A glass shard gleams in the light, "How in the hell did glass get in your wrists?"

"Maledictus vitro." Crowley leans back, covering his eyes with his hands and flinching when the blood gets on his cheek. He wipes off the drop.

"'Cursed glass'?" I get back to work, picking the pieces out one by one.

He offers me the other wrist while he explains, "Those demons really were in with the witches. Holy mother of sin, ow!" he pulls back to blow on the skin then returns his hand to me, "It's a spell cast on certain blades. Leaves shards of glass in the skin of its victims. Your blade's cursed."

"Lovely…" Once the wounds are completely clean, I look to dress the one on his chest. His thumb presses to my forehead.

"You look like hell." There's a bruise forming beside my eye, I can feel it.

I scoff, "I was hit by a lamp." We both get a good laugh from this and it eases the tension in our chests. I lost count of how many I killed, and I'm wondering if there are still demons lurking in the mansion. We felt like we had an army behind us earlier; felt that if we needed to send in the grunts, we had them. Now, that's unlikely. Now it's just the two of us. Who knows where Grayson is, and who knows if Crowley has any avid followers.

I finish dressing the wounds and lean against the corner of the tub, pressing my fingers into my temple, "Thank you," I look up, "I don't say this – ever – but I know if there is one person who could have my back when war breaks out under my own roof, it'd be you."

My chest is filled with butterflies, "It's the blood loss. You need sleep." I shut down his half compliment and stand. He grabs my wrist and I read his expression, "You mean it?"

"Every word, love." He stands and we're kissing roughly once more. I take this time to breathe, relieved that he is still alive. A snap and my wounds are cleaned. We're in his office; bodies crowding us, a new shirt on him, "We should go," my bag is beside me, he's grabbing scrolls and trinkets; packing a duffel, and slinging it over his shoulder. Another flash and the truck is loaded, keys in the ignition, and Crowley in the driver's seat. I want to halt him – Balthazar drove my truck last and I'm usually against anyone handling it. "We've everything. Sleep."

"I can drive," but as soon as I say it, I know it's wrong. I haven't slept in almost a full day, I've fought off countless demons, and the amount of stress in my chest is excessive.

"We're safe now. Rest. We separate in the morning," at this comment, my head snaps in his direction as he eases onto the freeway, "It'll give us time. I have to weasel Samuel out along with a certain Winchester whose swan dive will astound millions. Not long; just enough to put my plan in motion."

I accept this, too tired to argue, "Are your wrists bleeding through the bandages?" I yawn.

He rolls his eyes, "Bloody hell, woman. Don't worry about me. Sleep."

The last thing I see is the blur of the passing streetlights, the way his forearms look with his sleeves rolled up, and the dark stains of blood on the white wrapping around his wrists.


	30. Bright Lights & Cityscapes

"Ellsworth!" my voice booms over the chirping of birds outside the cabin. The body I'm heaving weighs more than I expected, and my muscles ache from dragging him. The thigh holster for my gun feels taught around my pulled muscle, but I kick open the door and continue dragging the creature. "Fucking give me a damn hand here, man."

The demon rises and takes the body bag from me. Hands on my hips, I watch him pull the bag beside the desk and answer the phone.

"Yes, sir. Right on time. She's a good one alright. At your ready," he hangs up.

"He's thankful for your service, Ms. Jennings," The demon looks like Bobby Singer and we both watch the creature begin to thrash in the green bag. Never allowed to kill them. Knock them out for later use.

Ruefully I question if he's said anything about meeting with me. A headshake no and I bust ass out of there, through the crunching leaves and to my truck. I speed back to base and am storming into my office in a flash. Tossing my keys on the metal desk, I huff through files until I grasp the Latin passage I was translating. Back to work.

A knock at my door causes my eyes to rise and meet one Samuel Campbell.

"Sam's on his way." I've been dodging the youngest Winchester for a few weeks now. Samuel agreed to work with us after Crowley pulled him from the pit. If Samuel does as he's told, Crowley offered to resurrect Mary. Sam Winchester was pulled out by Crowley, so he says, but I have been informed he is without a soul.

"How long ago did he call?" I'm gathering paperwork in a rush. Again. Always rushing as of late.

"Half hour ago." He shrugs.

"WHAT!?"

"I think it's time I tell them about who I'm working for."  
"You do that and you're dead."

He stiffens and then glares. "You don't get to push me around, sweetheart. I'm old enough to be your dad."

"And I'm quick enough to lodge a knife in your neck before your next breath," I slip it from its holster. I don't break his gaze.

"I'll go above your head to Crowley."

"Samuel, you can try. He doesn't answer for me, he sure as shit won't answer for you."

A _tisk_ sound startles me; I sense someone at my back and raise my blade to their throat.

"Good to see you, too, Sash," back in its holster my blade goes. "Kids, no fighting. Samuel, you tell the Winchesters, you're dead."

The Impala's engine roars outside, "I won't have to tell them anything. I'll show 'em your daddy's truck. They'll know."

Crowley snaps, no doubt sending my truck away, "Try. Go on. I have no problem breaking our little deal," Samuel's features lose their sharpness and Crowley zaps me out. "Your truck's outside."

I'm standing in what seems like a laboratory. Cold air reaches my skin like dead hands. The stench of decay hits me like spoiled milk. There's blood and bodies all around and Crowley looks right at home.

"So this is where you've been. Torturing," I finally speak.

"Oh, boy…" he mutters and begins walking away.

"You rotten little fuck!" tossing my paperwork on the table, I grab his shoulder, spin him around, and punch his jaw. He blocks my next hit and takes me to the ground. I'm rolling him off me, back covered in blood from the puddles beneath us, and pummeling him in the face. "I haven't seen you in three months. Orders come left and right, a few short phone calls, and I'm just supposed to accept the fact that you've been down here like a hermit?"

"You need to accept orders when they're given to you."

"I did! Everything you asked," he pushes me off and stands then raises his hand and sends me into the wall, "I haven't seen you since the fight at the mansion."

"Yeah, well, that got a little too touchy-feely for me."  
"You were the one who mentioned your appreciation. If you hadn't said anything, I wouldn't have bitched. I know you by now. You're not the type." He chokes me then kisses me roughly, but I continue to thrash. My knee connects with his stomach.

A grunt leaves him, "You wanna let go of your anger for five minutes and assist me?" When I don't reply he lets me down. My clothes are sticking to me from the blood and I shiver in disgust looking at whose blood I'm wearing, "Urant, meet my queen."

The strung up creature raises his head, "So this is the Mrs?"

"Okami." Crowley clarifies for me, taking off his bloodied suit jacket and placing an apron over the dress shirt.

"You're one of the Alphas we've been bagging."

"Your Moose snatched this one up, no problem," Crowley raises a bamboo dagger, "Now if only he'd cooperate."

"Blessed by a Shinto priest?" I ask. Urant's head whips in my direction.

"Girl knows her stuff."

"Way ahead of you, sweetcheeks." Crowley nods at me, "You any idea now?"

"I've told you: I only know I go there when I die."

"Well, you'll be there before you know," I don't blink as Crowley kills him; I count the stabs to make sure he's right. He is. "Been at that one for hours. Nothing." He sighs and rubs his temples, "Bloody frustrating," another pause while he removes his apron, "Drinks? Shall we?" I am snapped out again, arriving in a dimly lit bedroom that resembles his old one. My bloodied clothes are off and replaced with a burgundy dress shirt that matches the wine he hands me. I'm bare-thighed and sitting on his bed sheets. He flips through my paperwork, "Very nice. Anything?"

I sip my wine, "Nothing yet. Just typical mumble about creatures arriving there after death. Haven't gotten to the juicy bits yet. You're free to try your hand at it."

He kisses me then, clean-shaven and haphazard. God, I've missed him.

"I'd rather not," he begins pulling at the buttons on the shirt I wear. He stops, looks upward, and cusses, "That'll have to wait," he snaps me into black shorts, my thigh holsters, combat boots, and an army green crop top, "Grayson."

"Sir," he greets almost mechanically, "Sasha," he bows, "A few more have been delivered."

Crowley nods and saunters down the hall, turning mid-gulp of his drink, "Show her to the study down the hall. I'll be torturing: per usual."

I want to call after him, let him know that after all this time away, I've developed a longing for him. Even to be in the same room as him would be better than being in another study on another long night. But I don't say a word. I grab the scrolls and follow Grayson.

"Is everything alright?"

He's jumpy, "Well, your demon did not take my mistake too lightly. He showed me just what he's capable of. I avoid that torture room at all cost."

I want to tell him I'm sorry, but I'm not. Really, he had it coming. He could have gotten us killed. Hell, I haven't gotten a good look at Crowley's wounds; they could be scars now. When he shows me to the study, I don't thank him. Demons pass the room constantly, peeking in with narrowed eyes. Apparently not all of Crowley's helpers have gone rogue.

"Sasha, get in here," his voice brings a roar of heat to my cheeks. Once again, I'm the timid girl peeking around the corner those weeks ago, waiting for him to inform me about the death of my ex – tongue tied and terrified. I can hear the urgency in his voice so I huff up from the desk, hushed words of memorization; converting Latin to English and presenting it in a way that makes sense for our current situation. I've been at it for hours again – my hair in a bun, pen poking behind my ear, drowsy eyes and dehydration – my legs ache when I hurry down the hall. "Sasha!"

"Coming!" _Something about Heaven's powerful creature. A warning, it seems. Leviathan? He'll understand. He always does._

But when I enter the room, it's not the usual drill: apron removed, tired eyes meeting mine to question if any new details are uncovered, no. Blood adorns his suit and hands; splats on his face. There's a challenging look in his eyes this time.

"Come, tell me what you think," he presses his hand to the small of my back, leaving a sticky mark, and leads me to a carcass on the floor. It's oozing and so dismembered I can't tell what creature it is. I want to vomit. "Little bugger stopped cooperating. Three hours of interrogating, and zilch. What do you think?" He's testing me, that's what I think.

_It's nice. If the fucker wouldn't spill, let his innards spill. I would have kept him alive for it, though; ripped his trachea from his throat, cut belly to chin. I would have made him watch._

"It's…nice." I blurt, disgusted by the way I can feel my eyes fixate on the few organs threatening to pop out.

Crowley grins ear to ear. I've done a piss-poor job; he knows. I've been thinking, and it's getting darker every time.

"'At's all?" at this, I gaze up at him, feel my throat burning. _Tell him. Tell him. Tell him. _I nod.

My cell phone rings loudly, Crowley stares in a frustrated huff when I answer, "What is it this time?"

"The brothers. They're on their way to you. Now," Samuel croaks.

I smirk, "Well, look at you: following through with the plan," I hang up and inform Crowley.

"Learned from the best, I see," he pauses, "You know, it's kind of sexy." Before I register his words, he's kissing me fervently. When he snaps, Samuel appears a few feet away, but he doesn't stop kissing me.

"Sir," Grayson stands in the doorway and I notice his unease, "The Winchesters."

"Couldn't have given us long enough notice?" Crowley growls.

"Wasn't sure I was going to tell you at all."

A snap and Hellhounds are clawing their way down the hall, toward the brothers. We catch them off guard, send Cas away, and Crowley instructs that I go back to the study, suggesting that my emotions might cloud my judgment. Pissed off, I follow orders. About an hour passes before the fire alarm goes off.

"Screw orders! Grayson, where's Crowley?" This time, I thank him when he shows me. I burst open the doors just in time to see Crowley take the demon Meg down quickly. He uses a knife to break the trap he's in.

"You don't know torture, you little insect."

I think of running to him now that the Winchesters are pinned against the wall, but a few steps in, I hear someone behind me: Castiel.

"Leave them alone,"

"Hey, what's in the gift bag?" Crowley nods toward what rests in Cas' hands.

He takes a skull out of the bag, "You are." I try to lunge at it, but Cas throws me back.

Crowley doesn't move, "Not possible."

"You didn't hide your bones as well as you should have."

Crowley claps mockingly, "Cookie for you."

"Can you restore Sam's soul or not?" so that's what this is all about.

Crowley sighs, "If I could help out in any other-"

Dean pipes up this time, "Answer him," I'm on my feet, legs bowed, ready to dart for the bones, but Crowley gives me one look and I stand straight. He's probably right. Better to negotiate.

"I can't."

Cas shifts his gaze to the bag on the floor and I watch in horror as the bones ignite. Flames lick up his body, his screams jutting through my skull. I reach for him, only to be met with fire: burns casting over my fingertips and on my palm. I pull away. His ashes scatter across the floor. All eyes on me now: Meg, Sam, Dean, Cas. All hungry. All anticipating. All ready to lunge. I don't have time to weep. Anger flares up inside of me, my attention on the angel in the room. I take one step toward him, unsure of my move, but positive that he needs to be killed. That feeling takes ahold of me again, beginning in my fingertips and igniting up my arms. I want him to pay for what he's done to my demon.

Petal-soft hands are at my biceps and blackness follows. The night air fills my lungs.

I can tell who it is by the way he breathes, "Balthazar."

He stands – fists in pockets – and rocks from heel to toe. "You know I couldn't let you do that."

I take a few steps forward and gaze over the edge of the building we stand on. Looking up at the stars, I try to breathe. Think rationally. _Never mind what I said before; I don't want any less anymore._

And it starts like this: my shoulders shake in the slightest, Balth quickly taking note of the situation. I fall to my knees, him steadying me, tears cascading to street level. It overcomes me in waves. Those petal-soft hands mean nothing now; I'm too far gone to be comforted. I press my lips to my palm and feel him there: the burn, the sting and the ache. The fires that consumed him now tracing up the veins of my arms like liquid metal. I'm cold. I'm raging and lost and horrified and I don't know what to do, or which emotion to cling to.

I choose rage. The metal post beside me is torn off with a strength I was not aware I had. I throw it at the staircase that leads inside, denting the metal. I punch at the structure until my knuckles are bloody, until there's enough to cover the burns. If I bleed enough for him, will he come back? This wasn't supposed to kill him. We were supposed to go down in some epic battle, fighting for my soul or Hell. This is too weak for Crowley, when all I've ever known is for him to be strong. This…this was not supposed to kill him.

Balthazar wraps me in his arms like a newborn, and perhaps I am in a way. He hushes me and attempts to heal my oozing knuckles. I do not let him. Instead, I pinch my nails into my skin and try to rip humanity out of me. I push the angel away, not wanting contact with anything heavenly. I want to sit in Crowley's office in his suit jacket and boxers and drink Craig. I want to call his voicemail simply to hear his voice. I want him back. But mostly, I want to find Purgatory.

"You know what you have to do," Balthazar finally speaks, "He'd need you to, you know."

"Purgatory?" I finally croak out in a voice that sounds rawer than my own. "And how do you propose I do that without his help?"

"You don't. You have demons."

"That's a joke," my voice comes out stronger than I feel, "they won't respect me."

"Make them." He steps closer, "Do whatever means necessary. How did Crowley make them fear him?"

"Demonic powers, which I don't have, if you haven't noticed."

He huffs, "Well, what else?" I narrow my eyes, "Come on: think! Now is the time to act. Before word of his death gets out to the rest. Act before they do."

The word 'death' makes my lungs feel like they've collapsed, "Torture. He would torture them."

"Well." He doesn't say it; I don't think he can. But something in me is ready for anything. The odds of Crowley being in Purgatory are great. If that's where the others go, that's where he is. "What all do you need?"

I meet his gaze but don't answer him, "We'll be in touch." I take the stairs back down to the main floor and exit to find my truck. Once there, I load up on knives, guns, and one of dad's old swords with a back strap. I walk inside again and call Grayson who comes quickly.

"What's happened?"

"Gather the others. Now."

**Balthazar**

He doesn't need to announce himself, the ground seems to quake beneath him. Maybe he could be powerful someday.

"Evening," I don't turn.

He's sizing me up, judging by his silence, "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" I turn, "Helping our girl."

His eyes narrow, "And you're not on Heaven's side? Shouldn't you be defending your feather-faced brother?"

I scoff, "Truly? You'd have to be mad to see that story isn't going to end well," he shrugs, "besides, I've come to like Sasha. The more power she has, the more likely I'll be seeing her post-Purgatory," I pause, "This whole game you're playing is quite cruel. I hope you don't leave her hang too long."

Crowley take three steps forward, not removing his hands from his suit pockets, "I'm aware. But, do what I must…" he blinks slowly and shrugs, "Keep in mind, I've no issue disposing of you, say things go Gabriel."

It takes me a moment, but I realize, "Strictly friend-helping-friend. No ulterior motives, mate. Keeping it simpatico."

Dark eyes travel down my vessel then back up, "Hm." He nods once then turns to walk away, "How did you-"

"Know your plan? Oh, please. Just thought, 'what would Crowley do now'?"

He smirks, "And this is different from the other angels, how?"

"Ah, they don't _care _what you'd do. God forbid they step outside of themselves for once. No, they want you, dead."

He tips his head to the side then hums, "Well, pleasure, etcetera."

In a blink he's gone. The city lights glitter under the always-watching sky. I can't help but wonder if I've done the right thing. I can't help but wonder if I'll survive this.


End file.
